THE   EPIC  OF  GOD  AND 
THE  DEVIL 


BY 

JOHN  FREDERICK  ROWBOTHAM, 
M.A.,  OXON. 

AUTHOR  OF  THE  HUMAN  EPIC,  THE  EPIC  OF  LONDON, 

THE  E.PIC  OF  CHARLEMAGNE,  THE  HISTORY  OF  Music, 

THE  POETRY  OF  THE  TROUBADOURS. 


Written   1904-1906. 


E.  BAVLIS  &  SON, 

22,  THE  CROSS, 

WORCESTER. 


To 

WILLIAM  HUME  HUME,  ESQ.,  D.L., 
of  HumeTvood,  Co.  Wicklow. 


Friend,  to  broad  acres  adding  wit  and  worth, 
Learning-  and  taste,  and  skill  of  music  gay, 
To  whom  more  aptly  out  of  all  the  earth 
Than  unto  thee  could  I  inscribe  my  lay? 
Of  all  things  earthly  thou  hast  made  essay, 
Hast  plumbed  the  depths  where  human  passions  rage, 
And  to  all  states  thy  sympathy  canst  pay ; 
In  life  a  dreamer,  but  in  thought  a  sage. 
Let  my  mysterious  song  thy  fancies  deep  engage. 


CONTENTS. 


PART  I.     GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL. 

Page 

THE  PROPOSITION              ... i 

THE  INVOCATION                 ...         ...         ...         ...  ...  i 

THE  FABLE.     PART  I.     GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL  ...  i 

THE  METEMPSYCHOSIS  OF  THE  DEVIL              ...  ...  4 

THE  DEVIL  AT  A  HOSPITAL         ...         ...  ...  7 

THE  DEVIL  AT  A  RAILWAY  ACCIDENT                ...  ...  8 

THE  DEVIL  AT  A  MURDER           ...         ...           ..  ...  9 

THE  DEVIL  AT  A  FIRE      ...         ...         ...         ...  ...  n 

THE  DEVIL  AT  A  SHIPWRECK      ...         ...         ...  ...  13 

THE  DEVIL  ON  A  BATTLEFIELD               ...         ...  ...  15 

THE  DEVIL  AT  A  SEAFIGHT          ...         ...         ...  ...  17 

THE  DEVIL  IN  DRINK       ...          ...         ...         ...  ...  19 

THE  DEVIL  AT  PROSTITUTION      ...         ...         ...  ...  21 

THE  DEVIL  AT  CRIME       ...         ...         ...         ...  ...  25 

THE  DEVIL  IN  POVERTY               ...         ...         ...  ...  27 

THE  DEVIL  ON  A  CATTLESHIP     ...         ...         ...  ...  29 

THE  DEVIL  IN  A  SLAUGHTERHOUSE        ...         ...  ...  30 

THE  DEVIL  AT  VIVISECTION        ...         ...          ...  ...  32 

THE   DEVIL  AS  A   FISHERMAN     ...         ...         ...  ...  34 

THE  DEVIL  AS  SPORTSMAN          ...         ...         ...  ...  36 


2107633 


iv.  CONTENTS. 

PART    II.     THE    CONFLICT    BETWEEN    GOD  AND 

THE  DEVIL. 

Page 

INTRODUCTION         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  39 

THE  PREPARATIONS  IN  HELL        ...         ...         ...         ...  41 

THE  RIDE  THROUGH  THE  PLAINS  OF  DARKNESS           ...  42 

THE  ASSAULT  ON  THE  SEVENTY  THOUSAND  HEAVENS...  53 

THE  AGONY  OF  GOD         58 

PART  III.     THE  THEOGONY,  OR  THE  GENEALOGY 
OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL. 

THE  GENESIS  OF  THE  DEVIL  AND  OF  GOD       ...         ...  60 

THE  BIRTH  OF  GOD  FROM  CHAOS           ...           ..         ...  60 

THE  ILLUMINATION  OF  HALF  THE  UNIVERSE 61 

THE  CONFUSION  OF  SATAN           ...         ...         ...         ...  61 

HE  SEEKS  HIS  ABODE  IN  HELL    ...         ...         ...         ...  63 

AFTER  STORMING  INEFFECTUALLY  THE  SEVENTY  THOU- 
SAND HEAVENS,   SATAN'S  FALL  TO  THE  LOWEST 

DEPTHS  OF  HELL               ...         ...         ...         ...  64 

HE  BLIGHTS  AND  BLASTS  THE  YOUNG   WORLD  MADE  BY 

GOD              65 

HE  ASSAILS  JESUS  CHRIST  WITH  TEMPTATIONS,  FORCE, 

AND  FRAUD               ...         ...         ...      .    ...         ...  65 

THE  CRUCIFIXION              ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  67 

THE  FIRST  EASTER  DAY             ...         ...         ...         ...  68 

SATAN'S  DECLARATION  OF  THE  PATERNITY        ...         ...  70 

THE  DEVIL'S  OFFER  TO  us         ...         ...         ...         ...  71 

GOD'S  OFFER  TO  us         ...         ...         ...         ...         ...  72 

WHO  AND  WHAT  IS  GOD              72 

GOD'S  DECLARATION  OF  THE  PATERNITY           ...         ...  73 

WHERE  WE  CAN  SEE  GOD            74 

WHAT  AND  WHERE  is  HEAVEN               ...         ...         ...  76 

THE  FINAL  CHOICE           ...         76 


THE   EPIC   OF   GOD   AND 
THE  DEVIL 


PART    I. 
GOD    AND    THE    DEVIL. 

One  is  eternal,  everlasting,    great, 
Fair  as  the  sunbeams,  shining  as  a  star, 
Celestial,   of  essence  uncreate, 
Sustaining  all  things  that  created  are, 
Upholding  wide  existence  nigh   and  far ; 
With  perfect  beauty,  endless  love  endued, 
With  nought  his  smiling  loveliness  to  mar, 
Incomparably  merciful  and  good, 

Existing  in  serene,  complete  beatitude. 
And  One  is  ugly,  hideous  to  dismay, 
Rotten  and  lazarlike,  with  claws  that  kill, 
Teeming  with  foul  corruption  and  decay, 
With  cankers,  poisons,  blights  and  all  things  ill, 
Raging  with  passions,  filled  with  wicked  will, 
Yet  baulked  and  baffled,  racked  by  ill  success, 
Which  doth  his  brow  with  myriad  wrinkles  fill ; 
Blasted  with  disappointment,   rottenness, 

Squalor,  disease,  dirt,   filth,  and  pitiful  distress. 
Great  Zoroaster,  to  a  listening  world 
These  sacred  mysteries  who  hast  revealed, 
And  from  the  web  of  Nature  hast  unfurled 
Things  secret,  from  the  eye  of  sense  concealed, 
And  but  for  thee  to  be  for  ever  sealed — 
May  I  thy  wisdom  once  again  expound, 
And  may  thy  lore  its  lofty  lessons  yield, 
Thy  lore  incontrovertible,  profound, 

On  which  with  sure  repose  our  hope,  our  faith,  we  found ! 
From  measureless  eternity  The  Twain 
Have  been,  and  will  for  ageless  time  remain, 
Kings  of  the  Universe,  their  broad  domain, 
Which  One  destroys,   the  Other  doth  sustain. 
Equal  in  power,  they  hold  divided  reign, 
Waging  eternal  war  and  strife  amain, 
Which  sets  all  Nature  in  convulsive  pain. 
Now  one,  now  other  doth  the  triumph  gain, 

And  Nature  quails  in  doubt  which  will  the  power  maintain. 
From  measureless  eternity  The  Two 
Have  striven  in   interminable  fray. 
Each  act  One  did,  the  Other  did  undo; 


THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.       PART  I. 

Each  thing  One  placed,  the  Other  dragged  away ; 
Each  effort  and  each  art  One  did  essay 
Forward  to  move  upon  his  tranquil  track, 
The  Other  alway  schemed  to  turn  astray 
And  force  with  spiteful   satisfaction  back, 

Prepared  at  every  step  with  unforseen  attack. 
From  his  celestial  essence,  soft,  serene, 
God,  mighty  Ormuzd,  (so  the  sage  doth  tell,) 
Made  lovely  light — to  wrap  the  world  in  sheen. 
Hereon  the  Devil,  Ahriman  the  fell, 
Sought  with  his  machinations  light  to  quell ; 
And  straight  created  darkness,  cold  and  dread, 
To  blot  out  light  with  irresistless  spell. 
Whenever  lovely  light  henceforth  was  shed, 

Must  darkness  in  its  turn  enshroud  the  heavens  o'erhead. 
Then  God  with  vital  and  ambrosial  breath 
Breathed  through  the  Universe  the  gift  of  life. 
The  Devil  saw  it,  and  invented  death, 
To  wage  with  life  an  everlasting  strife, 
Destroying  sweet  existence  like  a  knife, 
Leaving  it  never  scathless  and  at  ease, 
But  harking  up  a  persecution  rife 
With  influences  deadliest — disease, 

Famines  and  pestilence,  and  such  fell  things  as  these. 
Then  God,  from  his  serene  beatitude, 
Took  fragrant  spices  and  aromas  rare. 
And  through  the  sky  in  shower  refreshing  strewed. 
Where'er  they  lighted,  happiness  was  there,. 
Joy  was  engendered  and  contentment  fair. 
The  Devil  straight  created  sorrow  drear, 
Racking  anxiety,   distress  and  care. 
God  made  the  radiance  of  a  smile  appear ; 

The  Devil  then  distilled  from  some  foul  well  a  tear. 
God,  in  pursuance  of  a  long  thought  plan, 
Framed  out  of  nothing  this  terrestrial   globe, 
Nature's  fair  centre  and  the  home  of  man. 
He  spared  no  pains  its  surface  to  enrobe 
With  fairest  tracery  and  verdant  robe. 
With  plants  and  trees  and  herbage  velvet  green 
He  decked  the  sward,  and  clad  the  lovely  globe : 
The  silver  rivers  and  the  sea  serene 

He  spread ;  and  bathed  its  breast  in   warmth   and  sunny 

sheen. 

In  pairs  he  made  the  animals  of  earth, 
The  plants  in  genus  and  exact  degree. 
To  all  things  fresh  and  fair  he  offered  birth 
And  plenteous  nurture,  meaning  they  should  be 
At  peace  and  rest  for  all  eternity. 
Wherefore  with  endless  care  and  thought  he  made 
Th'  eternal  patterns  of  all  things  that  be, 
Which  were  in  firm  stability  arrayed 

And  in  complete  perfection,  as  he  had  essayed. 


GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.  3 

Then  did  he  spread  a  carpet  brave  of  flowers — 
All  blooms  that  laugh  and  blossoms  that  entice 
Smiled,  smelt  and  hung  in  rainbow-tinted  showers. 
The  happy  world  it  was  a  Paradise, 
Laid  out  in  form  symmetrical  and  nice. 
And  here,  to  give  completion  to  his  plan, 
He  placed  his  pearl  of  estimable  price, 
Him  whom  he  loved  and  had  created — man, 

To  be  the  lord  of  all  things  that  his  eye  could  scan. 
Perpetual  day  beamed  o'er  the  lovely  world, 
And  lighted  with  its  ray  land  after  land. 
Perpetual  sunshine  from  the  blue  unfurled 
Blessed  earth  with  endless  summer  mild  and  bland. 
Perpetual  life  to  all  was  at  command, 
For  God  in  bounty  did  ordain  it  so. 
Perpetual  happiness  went  hand  in  hand 
With  all  the  other  joys  he  did  bestow. 

His  creatures  nought  but  peace  and  innocence  did  know. 
God  viewed  his  fair  creation  with  delight, 
Pronounced  it  good,  and,  satisfied,  gave  way 
To  self-congratulation  at  the  sight ; 
When,  happening  to  cast  his  eyes  away 
From  the  fair  globe,  he  saw  to  his  dismay, 
At  grisly  depth  below  him  many  a  mile, 
Poised  in  mid  air  the  Devil — there  he  lay, 
Covered  with  filth  and  with  corruption  vile. 

Regarding  his  creation  with  sardonic  smile. 

Then  God,  reviewing  the  fair  world  once  more, 
Found  it  had  changed  untimely  to  the  worse: 
Where'er  he  placed  a  blessing  just  before. 
The  Devil  now  had  introduced  a  curse, 
Transforming  all  things  to  direct  reverse, 
Fair  unto  foul,  and  happiness  to  woe, 
Strewing  his  evils  through  the  universe. 
Such  changes  had  been  wrought,  'twas  altered  so, 

Almighty  God  his  own  creation  scarce  did  know. 

Where  plants  and  flowers  were  spread  in  garden  fair, 

And  in  a  sheet  of  rainbow  blossoms  lay, 

The  Devil  had  insinuated  there 

In  every  bloom  the  nucleus  of  decay. 

Where  wheat  and  corn  lay  waving  in  the  day, 

With  tawny  yellow  wooing  soft  the  eye, 

The  filthy  Devil  had  contrived  a  way 

With  mildew  and  with  rot  to  putrefy, 

Spoiling  the  beauteous  grain  which  round  did  laughing  lie. 
And  where  the  herbs  were  budding  and  were  rising 
On  green-tressed  stems  above  the  fruitful  ground, 
There  his  pernicious  sorcery  devising 
He  soon  a  means  to  vitiate  them  found, 
And  blast  with  blight  their  greenery  around. 
Where  freshest  fruit,  delicious  to  the  taste. 
The  bending  trees  with  luscious  clusters  crowned, 


4  THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.       PART  I. 

With  envious  malice  and  with  eager  haste 
He  spat  the  cankers  on  it,   all  its  sweets  to  waste. 

Where  sun  was  shining  and  with  warmth  and  balm 

Bathing  the  earth,  he  introduced  a  chill — 

A  chill  so  sudden,  all  things  felt  a  qualm, 

And  throughout  Nature  ran  a  deadly  thrill. 

Next  he  invented  hail,  the  corn  to  kill, 

Delighting  most  when  suddenly  it  came. 

Rain  did  he  down  in  icy  drops  distil ; 

And  frost,  to  pierce  and  probe  the  tenderest  frame — 
This  he  invented  too,  to  put  God's  works  to  shame. 

And  man,  poor  man ! — Oh,  what  a  crop  of  woes 

The  Devil  launched  to  spoil  his  happiness! 

What  fell  diseases,  which  in  legions  rose! 

What  sickness,   suffering,   sorrow  and  distress ! 

What  racking  cares,  which  ceaselessly  oppress 

With  hard  anxiety  his  daily  life ! 

What  vice,  what  foul  corrupting  wickedness! 

And  last,  not  least,  that  foe  with  terrors  rife, 
Dire  death,  which  shears  his  sweet  existence  like  a  knife ! 

THE  METEMPSYCHOSIS  OF  THE   DEVIL. 

But  we  are  men,  and  we  may  see  them  round  us, 
And  know  what  foe  is  battling  to  confound  us, 
What  foe  oppresseth  when  we  sit  repining, 
Our  minds  to  dark   despair   inclining, 
What  foe  distresseth  when  we  languish  grieving, 
Causes  of  useless  sorrow  weaving. 
What  foe  solicits  us 
To  sins  impure, 
What  monster  visits  us 
With  vengeance  sure, 
What  fiend  disgraces  us, 
What  beast  abases  us, 
When  we  give  way  to  do  his  wicked  will, 
What  foe  seduces  us, 
Till  he  reduces  us 

With  sin,  crime,  vice,  our  filthy  souls  to  fill — 
It  is  the  Devil,  who  can  take  all  shape, 
And  his  foul  person  so  completely  drape, 
That  he  can  oft  the  sharpest  eyes  escape. 
Sometimes  he  melts  into  a  brimming  cup  of  wine, 

Where  the  bubbles  shine — 
The  last  fell  cup,  with  reckless  draught  within 

Which  leads  a  man  to  do  a  sin. 
Sometimes  he  turneth  to  a  bag  of  gold, 

For  which  is  to  be  sold 
Virtue  or  honour  as  its  prize 
Sometimes  he  masquerades  in  the  disguise 
Of  a  fair  woman  with  sparkling  eyes. 
Sometimes  he  stalks  a  ruffian  foul, 
Stealing  about  'neath  midnight's  cowl, 


THE  METEMPSYCHOSIS  OF  THE  DEVIL. 

And  bent  on  doing  some  fell  deed  of  crime. 
Time  after  time 
Doth  he  so  change. 
With  metempsychosis  strange — 
The  slippery   snake! — 
And  doth  every  form  and  feature  take, 

Bent  to  deceive, 
Just  as  he  cheated  Eve, 
By  being  other  than  he  seems, 
Cozening  us  with  dreams 

And  false  delusion 
In  bewildering  profusion. 

When  he  designed 
To  witch  the  mother  of  mankind, 

And  planned  his  first  disgrace 

On  our  poor  race, 

He  entered  Paradise  when  all  were  sleeping, 
Like  a  black  mist  along  the  greensward  creeping, 
Creeping  and  stealing. 
Its  bad  way  feeling 
Through  the  flowers  and  the  trees 
Of  that  garden  of  ease, 
Through  the  angel  band 
Who  as  sentries  stand, 
With  their  glittering  armour  bright 
With  a  dazzle  of  heavenly  light, 
Who  everywhere  were  looking  for  their  foe, 
But  never  heeded, 
As  it  proceeded, 
That  black  mist  slinking,   sluggish  and  slow, 

And  let  it  go, 
Oh,  everlasting  woe ! 
O'er  the  lawns  and  the  dales 
And  the  amaranthine  vales, 

Till  it  passed  out  of  sight 
And  had  vanished  quite. 
But  now  the  Devil  insidiously  creeping 
Had  come  to  the  bower  where  Eve  was  sleeping, 
And  having  finished  his  stealthy  road 
Changed  to  the  figure  of  a  toad, 
And  did  himself  on  his  small  haunches  rear 

Close  by  her  ear, 

In  which  he  poured  all  thoughts  of  ill. 
Her  innocent  sweet  mind  to  fill. 
While  thus  engaged,  two  angels,   made  suspicious 

Of  his  crafts  pernicious, 
Scouting  the  Paradise  to  detect  him, 
Found  him  where  they  least  expect  him. 
And  one  of  them,  Ithuriel,  going  near, 

Touched  the  fell  toad  with  pointed  spear. 
Up  started  Satan,  of  the  touch  abhorrent, 
Like  a  fiery  torrent 


THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.       PART  I. 

Springing  to  the  sky. 
As  should  a  pile  of  powder  lie, 

And  by  spark  be  lighted, 
The  smutty  grain,   ignited, 
Flares  with  a  roar  on  high  : 
So,  like  some  dire  volcano  launched  to  birth, 
Satan  ablaze  filled  heaven  and  earth. 
But  when  Eve  he  tempted, 
And  his  craft  attempted, 
Which  hath  wrought  to  all  our  race  fell  woe; 
Such  his  disguise, 
The  sharpest  eyes 

Scarce  would  the  King  of  Terrors  know, 
In  figure  of  a  snake. 
Who  through  the  brake 

With  rainbow-spangled  scales  its  slippery  way  did  ply, 
With  sheen  of  amethyst 
And  gold,  that  did  persist 
To.  woo  with  changing  hues  the  wondering  eye. 
WThat  marvel  that  such  beauty 
Did  its  duty, 
And  the  eyes  did  blind 
Of  the  mother  of  mankind, 
Teaching  her  to  eat 

That  morsel  sweet, 

Which  left  such  death  and  devilry  behind? 
But  when  the  apple  slips 
Within  her  ruby  lips, 

Lo!  something  dire  within  the  piece  was  centred. 
The  snake  to  air  had  fled. 

And  in  its  stead 

The  Devil  in  the  apple's  self  had  entered. 
And  she  with  her  own  teeth  devoured 
Him.  who  of  life  and  hope  and  virtue  her  deflowered. 
Thus  with  change  after  change 

Doth  he  range. 

He  and  his  bad  angels,  to  deceive 
Those  whom  they  of  life  and  hope  bereave, 
Changing  to  things  most  unexpected 
And  least  to  be  detected. 
'Tis  not  in  horns  and  hoofs 
Or  scarlet  Mephistopheleses  we  see  proofs 

Of  the  fiend's  presence  by  us; 
But  in  a  thousand  substances, 
In  which  he  penetrates  with  ease, 
And  seeks  to  cozen  and  defy  us — 
As  facile  in  the  power  to  change 
To  figure  strange, 

As  he 

In  the  Arabian  history. 

Who  first  became  a  heron  till  the  hawk  pursued  him, 
And  then  a  log  until  the  woodman  hewed  him, 


THE  METEMP.SYCHOSIS  OF  THE  DEVIL. 

And  then  a  fish  until  the  otter  caught  him, 

And  then  a  wolf  until  the  wolf-hounds  fought  him, 

And  then  a  fire  until  the  water  quenched  it, 

With  dashing  deluge  drenched  it, 
And  then  a  heap  of  corn  upon  the  plain, 
Until  a  cock  picked  grain  up  after  grain. 
And,  swallowing  fast  each  seed  upon  the  field, 
Devoured  the  wizard  where  he  lay  concealed. 

THE    DEVIL    AT    A    HOSPITAL. 

But  not  a  mere  magician, 
Smit  with  the  vain  ambition 
Our  minds  to  craze 
With  fond  amaze 
At  his  prestigiations 
And  wondrous  transformations, 
But  a  dire  beast  iniquitous, 
Almighty  and  ubiquitous, 
Whose  only  joy 
Is  to  destroy, 
Who  nought  doth  know 
More  sweet  and  pleasant 
Than  everlastingly  be  present 
At  human  grief  and  human  woe. 
To  gloat  on  agony, 
Suffering  dire  to  see, 
In  torture  and  excruciating  pain  to  revel — 

Such  the\;hief  pleasure  of  the  Devil. 
Wherefore  with  glad  grimace 
He  through  a  hospital  most  willingly  doth  pace, 
Where  he  has  sown  the  fevers  and  the  sores, 
The  abscesses  and  ulcerous  pores, 
The  sloughing  tumours 
Charged  with  humours, 
The  dropsies,  cancers,  that  abound, 
And  bear  such  glorious  fruit  around. 
'Tis  an  orchard  of  his  own  growing, 
Which  day  by  day  he  would  be  sowing ; 
Wherefore  he  visits  it  with  joy, 
To  reap  his  harvest,  and  destroy. 
He  passes  through  the  beds, 
Where  toss  the  aching  heads. 
The  clammy  brow  he  laves 

In  waves 

Of  icy  perspiration. 
The  features  pale  that  languish, 
He  racks  with  ruts  of  anguish, 
And  views  the  piteous  sight  with  exultation. 
He  sends  the  racking  cough 
To  carry  victims  off, 
And  hears  with  joy  befitting 


THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.       PART  I. 

The  hawking  and  the  spitting ; 
And  laughs  at  the  poor  lung, 
With  pain  and  straining  wrung. 

But  his.  dearest  occupation 

Is  at  an  operation. 

"Pis  the  joy  of  his  bad  life 
When  the  cold-gleaming  knife 

Flashes  bright 

To  the  sight, 
And  the  victim  pale  with  fright 

Utters  yell  after  yell 

At  the  agonies  of  hell. 

In  such  a  scene 

He  sits  serene. 

The  shriek  of  fear 

Is  music  to  his  ear. 
The  scream  of  pain 
He  would  hear  again. 

And  he  silently  laughs  at  his  own  bad  plan, 
And  the  havoc  he  makes  with  beautiful  man. 

THE    DEVIL    AT    A    RAILWAY    ACCIDENT. 

An  accident 
Is  a  dear  event, 
In  which  the  Devil 
Loves  to  revel. 
It  gives  him  evermore 

Scope  for  endless  mockery  and  laughter — 
Both  the  scene  before, 
And  the  scene  after:  — 

The  scene  before,  because  he  knows  what's  coming. 
And  he  listens  to  the  humming 
And  the  bustle  and  the  stir 

Of  the  train  at  the  station 
With  a  secret  exultation, 
And  of  every  passenger 
He  notes  the  destination, 
Saying  with  complacent   air, 
That  ne'er  will  one  of  them  get  there. 
Off  goes  the  engine  with  a  whistle  and  a  whiz ! 

And  the  Devil  at  last  knows  that  they  all  are  his. 
And  he  runs  along  the  footboard,  taking  pains  to  keep  them 

in 

For  the  hellish  agonies  and  tortures  which  will  soon  begin. 
And  while  the  train  is  spinning, 
Through  the  Iqmp-holes  he  is  grinning, 
Through  the  lamp-holes  of  the  roof 
Peeping  in  to  have  the  proof 
That  the  people  are  inside, 
Little  witting  as  they  ride 
Of  the  dire  catastrophe, 

That  is  soon  to  be. 


THE  DEVIL  AT  A  RAILWAY  ACCIDENT. 

And  he  rubs  his  hands  with  glee, 

And  after 

Bursts  into  a  shriek  of  diabolic  laughter, 
Which  is  fortunately  drowned 
By  the  engine's  roaring  sound, 
And  the  rattle  of  the  wheels, 
As  the  train  to  its  destruction  steals. 
Then  sudden  as  a  flash 
Comes  the  crash 
And  the  smash. 
And  the  air  is  filled  with  yell, 
And  the  carriages  with  hell. 
And  bodies  crushed  and  limbs  all  mangled, 
With  the  broken  boards  entangled, 
Dire  contusions, 
Fell  confusions, 
Horrid  groans, 
Piteous  moans, 

Shrieks  from  those  in  phalanx  serried 
In  splinters  and  in  darkness  buried — 
All  makes  a  sight  to  turn  thought  dizzy 
But  the  Devil  he  is  busy 
Presiding  o'er  this  scene  of  woe, 
Pacing  fleetly  to  and  fro, 
Some  scream  of  anguish  to  enjoy, 
Some  dying  victim  to  annoy. 

Drinking  in 
With  his  ears  of  sin 
The  tempest  of  yells,  screams  and  cries, 
Which  from  the  wrecks  of  carriages  arise. 
And  then  when  help  arrives,  the  Devil 
Oh!  he  is  very  civil, 
Assisting  into  stretcher  and  chair 
The  mangled  forms  with  obsequious  care, 
Oft  covering  them  with  decent  sheet, 
And  thinking  the  while  with  rapture  sweet 
Of  the  faces  crushed  past  recognition, 
And  other  ghastly  exhibition ; 
Concealing  his  grin  of  exultation 
Beneath  a  masterly  affectation. 
'Tis  his  hour  of  triumph  vile 
O'er  man,  whom  he  so  long  has  hated ; 
And  he  revels  all  the  while 
In  the  woe  he  has  created. 

THE    DEVIL    AT    A    MURDER. 

When  murder  is  on  the  tapis, 
Then  the  Devil  is  happy; 
And  he  sniffs  it  far  away, 
And  comes  along  with  transport  gay, 
For  any  sake 
To  partake 


THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  I. 

In  such  a  scene  of  blood  and  terror, 

Sin  and  error, 
As  may  not  happen  every  day. 

He  sharpens  the  knife, 
That  is  to  take  away  the  life ; 
Or  the  poison  doth  prepare 
With  a  world  of  care, 
That  courses  through  the  blood, 
And  taints  its  wholesome  flood 
With  a  curdle  chill, 
Deathlike  and  still. 
Where  doth  the  Devil  lurk, 
When  the  murderer  is  at  his  work? 
Perched  on  his  shoulder, 
Helping  his  arm, 
Peering  around  in  case  of  alarm, 
That  he  may  bolder 
Wreak  his  fell  harm. 
'Tis  a  man — no,  a  fiend ! 
Who  has  purposed  to  slay 
A  girl  young  and  fair,  who  on  him  has  leaned, 
By  him  has  been  ruined  and  hurried  astray. 
The  Devil  approves  of  the  cause. 

'Tis  a  reason, 
Which  to  him  and  his  laws 

Seems  entirely  in  season. 
For,  those  who  have  trusted  for  you  to  betray, 
And  those  who  have  loved  you  to  pitiless  slay — 

This  is  his  creed ; 
So  he  says  to  the  man, 
"  Please,  brother,  proceed, 

And  as  fast  as  you  can." 
So  the  murderer  throttles  the  milkwhite  throat, 
And  the  Devil's  black  fingers  close  over  his  own. 
And  the  murderer  bashes  her  face  with  an  oath, 
And  the  Devil  with  ecstasy  drinks  in  her  groan. 
Then  the  murderer  draws  the  gleaming  blade : 
And  the  Devil  asunder  her  dress  doth  tear, 
Till  her  lovely  bosom  lies  displayed, 

White  as  alabaster  fair. 

Then  the  murderer  plunges  the  bright  knife  in ; 
And  the  Devil  twists  it  round  with  a  grin. 
And  the  blood,  red  blood, 
In  a  dirty  flood 

Comes  slopping  all  her  bosom  white. 
And  the  Devil  laughs  horribly  at  the  sight. 
And  the  woman  screams;  and  the  Devil's  laughter, 
Mixed  with  the  screams,  or  immediately  after, 

Grows  so  loud, 
That  the  man  is  cowed, 
And  desists  from  his  work  of  mutilation. 

For  the  Devil's  obstreperous  cachinnation 


THE   DEVIL  AT  A  MURDER.  II 

(Since,  to  finish  the  sport,  he  looks  to  the  thought 
Of  having  the  murderer  red-handed  caught) 
Alarms  the  neighbourhood  and  the  night, 
And  the  people  wake  up  in  dire  affright. 
And  in  window  and  window  there  gleams  a  light. 
And  the  murderer  panic-struck  takes  to  flight 
And  makes  his  escape,  just  when  a  crowd, 
Gesticulating  and  talking  aloud, 
Rattle  the  knocker,  or  the  bell  ring, 
All  too  late  their  help  to  bring, 

Then  force  the  door, 
And  hurry  over  the  blood-stained  floor, 

Holding  their  bated  breath 
When  they  enter  the  chamber  of  death. 
«        Nought  do  they  find, 
No  clue, 

Nought  left  behind 
To  show  who  the  crime  did  do — 

But  only  the  dead, 

With  the  murderer  fled  ; 

And  a  sight,  which  their  very  sense  doth  stun, 
Tells  them  a  murder  has  been  done. 


THE    DEVIL   AT   A    FIRE. 

Fire!  Fire! 
What  terror  do  the  words  inspire ! 

Fire!  Fire!  Fire! 

And  there's  none  who  hurries  faster 
To  the  scene  of  the  disaster 
Than  the  vile  and  grimy  Devil, 
Who  looks  to  hold  high  revel 
In  the  blazes  and  the  flame, 
To  play  a f pretty  game 
In  the  glare  and  the  gleams, 
While  the  conflagration  steams. 
And  the  burnt  and  falling  beams 
Scatter  death  and  dire  destruction, 
While  the  flames  up-licking  flash 
And  portend  the  speedy  crash 
Of  the  fabric's  whole  construction. 
But  he  on  high  above  the  bonfire  stands. 

Warming  his  hands, 

Basking  in  the  rays  ; 

And  sees  with  joy  the  building  crumbling 
And  all  things  tumbling 

Into  tne  blaze. 
Sometimes  he  stirs  the  conflagration, 

Making  it  bright, 
If  it  require  some  agitation 

To  keep  it  alight. 
As  one  with  poker  stirring  a  fire, 


12  THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.       PARTI. 

Making  the  flames  mount  higher, 

So  the  Devil  stirs  the  fire,  if  it  should  die, 

Making  the  flames  leap  up  to  the  sky. 

But  specially  does  it  elate  him 

And  exhilarate  him, 
If  human  beings  are  burnt  to  cinder, 
Their  clothes  scorched  to  tinder, 
Their  white  flesh  charred, 
Their  beautiful  body  marred 
By  the  flames  and  the  smoke. 
This  to  him  is  a  joke, 
Which  he  loves  dearly, 
And  looks  upon  merely 
As  a  pleasant  addition 
To  the  genial  exhibition. 
If  they  shriek,  he  listens  intent, 

With  one  ear  bent 
To  the  blazes  that  roar. 
If  pent  in  a  room, 
Bathed  in  smoke  and  gloom, 
They  struggle  for  exit,  he  holds  the  door. 
If  they  stumble  suffocated, 

He  laughs  elated. 
If  they  escape  at  length 
By  herculean  strength, 

And  rush  through  the  fire  with  nothing  o'er  them, 
He  breaks  the  staircase  down  before  them, 

And  leaves  them  to  fry- 
In  agony, 

Shrieking  until  their  shrieks  are  drowned 
In  the  universal  blaze  around. 
Such  is  the  revel 
Of  the  Devil. 

And,  as  you  may  presume,  to-night 
'Tis  he  who  set  the  blaze  alight, 
Like  some  damned  conspirator  creeping 
To  the  building,  where  all  were  sleeping, 

And  in  the  pitchy  dark 

Kindling  the  tiny  spark 
Which  shall  result  in  such  a  conflagration 
And  devilish  illumination. 
Then,  when  his  train  is  laid, 
Swooping  off  for  the  fire  brigade, 
Bidding  them  rescue  poor  folk  from  their  fate, 
Knowing  that  rescue  will  be  too  late ; 
Giving  the  alarm,  ringing  the  bell, 

Gathering  the  crowd 

With  shouts  aloud 
To  see  a  realisation  of  hell. 

Then,  when  the  awful  sight 

Imagination  dazes, 

Precipitating  with  delight 


THE  DEVIL  AT  A  FIRE.  13 

Himself  into  the  blazes, 

And  disappearing  from  mortal  eyes, 

With  the  poor  sufferers  to  sympathise. 
And  at  their  ear  in  the  raging  fire 
He  plies  persecutions  that  never  tire ; 
He  bewilders  and  confuses  them, 
He  maddens  and  abuses  them, 

With  hopes  of  escape  that  are  doomed  to  be  bootless, 
With  chances  of  rescue  all  quite  fruitless. 
At  last  he  drags  them  to  the  window  screaming, 
And  shows  them  far  beneath — or  are  they  dreaming  ? 

People  with  a  great  sheet  outspread, 
In  which  they  must  leap  from  overhead. 

However  high,  it  matters  naught ; 
Be  sure,  he  whispers,  they  will  be  caught. 
And  one  by  one  in  wild  despair 
They  take  their  flight  through  the  blazing  air. 
And  the  Devil  he  too  doth  with  them  ride, 
Sailing  down  through  the  air  at  their  side, 
To  be  with  them  where  their  journey  ceases — 
That  is,  on  the  ground  and  dashed  to  pieces. 

Meantime  the  few  that  yet  remain, 

Roasted  with  heat  and  racked  with  pain, 
Afraid  to  leap,  though  fain — 

With  one  stamp  he  breaks  in  the  flooring, 
And  precipitates  them  alive  into  the  blazes  roaring. 
Thus  does  the  Devil 
Hold  his  revel 

Amid  the  fire  and  furnace  around, 
For  the  fire  is  his  empire,  you  may  be  bound. 


THE    DEVIL    AT    A    SHIPWRECK. 

Yet  if  his  appetite  for  slaughter 
Can  be  gratified  by  water, 

Do  not  think 
That  he  will  shrink 
From  the  enjoyment, 

But  with  glee 

Will  wing  his  journey  to  the  sea 
In  search  of  dire  employment. 
And  oaring  through  the  clouds 
On  sail-broad  vans  expanded 
Will  spy  a  ship  with  tattered  shrouds 
Upon  a  sandbank,  stranded, 
Doomed  to  perdition, 
In  hopeless  position, 
With  timbers  breaking 
And  ribs  quaking. 

All  through  its  sides  the  wave  'tis  drinking. 
The  gallant  ship  is  nigh  to  sinking. 


14  THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.       PART  I 

The  Devil  scents  from  far  away 

The  smell  of  death, 
And  on  he  comes  without  delay, 
Ne'er  pausing  to  take  breath. 
He  comes,  to  witness  there 
The  incarnation  of  his  fondest  dreams. 
The  ship' is  filled  with  yells  and  screams 

And  piteous  despair. 
'Tis  a  vessel  where  are  many 
Children  and  ladies, 
Whom  the  Devil  more  than  any 

Likes  to  send  to  Hades. 
Their  screams  are  so  refreshing  to  his  ears ! 
He  loves  to  bathe  his  hands  in  women's  tears, 

To  part  their  long  hair  from  the  face, 
And  view  their  grief  with  devilish  grimace. 
And  here  is  a  sample, 
Where  scope  is  ample. 
Wherefore  straight  to  the  ladies'  cabin, 

Eager  for  ruin  and  rapine, 
In  he  plunges,  hideous  and  deform, 

To  find  the  place  a  very  storm 
Of  shrieks  and  screams  and  wail, 

And  women  deadly  pale 

Shrieking  and  raving  and  wringing  their  hands. 
And  in  their  midst  with  approval  he  stands, 
Increasing  their  terror, 
Confounding  with  error 
Their  every  action, 

And  goading  to  madness  and  utter  distraction. 
Then  he  runs  among  the  crew, 

Seeking  to  undo 
Whatever  is  for  safety  done. 
This  is  his  devilry  and  fun. 
If  a  leak  is  plugged, 
He  unplugs  it. 
If  a  rope  is  tugged, 
Then  the  other  way  he  tugs  it, 

Getting  the  rigging  in  a  tangle, 
Involving  the  sailors  in  a  wrangle. 

Just  at  the  hour 
When  they  should  be  heedful, 
And  all  in  their  power 
Is  verily  needful, 
If  they  the  ship  shall  save 
And  all  its  passengers  from  watery  grave. 
Now  comes  the  moment  when  the  boat  must  founder 
Amid  the  yeasty  seas  around  her. 

Now  rises  up  in  accents  shrill 
A  wild  farewell. 
But  louder,   shriller  still, 
Is  the  Devil's  mocking  yell, 


THE  DEVIL  AT  A  SHIPWRECK.  15 

Who  sees  fine  sport  awaiting  him, 
And  crowds  of  horrors  sating  him, 
When  hundreds  struggle  in  the  wave, 
Seeking  escape  from  watery  grave. 
Quick  as  thought  from  ^par  to  spar 
He  skims  the  billows  nigh  and  far, 
And  pushes  down 
With  hideous  frown 
Each  agonised  face, 
That  for  a  space 
Makes  its  pillow 
On  the  billow. 

What  rapture  lurks  in  this  work  of  woe, 
The  Devil  himself  doth  only  know. 
Those  who  have  on  wreckage  crawled, 
And  sit  there  trembling  and  appalled, 
With  waves  he  splashes  them, 

Until  he  dashes  them 
Down  in  the  churning  trough  of  sea, 
Where  he  grins  in  ecstasy 

At  their  struggles  bootless 
And  their  frantic  efforts  fruitless 

For  breath  and  life 
In  the  wild  waves'  strife. 
Those  who  to  planks  and  lifebuoys  cling 
Amid  the  waves  round  weltering, 

He  nothing  lingers, 
But  unclasps  their  quivering  fingers, 
Then  away  doth  snatch 
The  precious  float  at  which  they  catch, 
And  plunges  them  quivering, 
Cold   and   shivering, 
Deep  in  the  cold  deep  sea, 
Where  with  ecstasy 
Again  and  again  he  sees  them  rise, 
And  mops  and  mows  at  their  imploring  eyes. 

Thus  at  a  shipwreck  every  minute 
The  Devil  turns  to  full  employment, 
And  be  sure  he  findeth  in  it 
Excellent  enjoyment. 

THE    DEVIL    ON    A    BATTLEFIELD. 

The  day  of  doom,  the  day  of  danger — 
To  this  the  Devil  is  no  stranger. 
But  when  the  cannons  belching  spout 
Their  smoke  and  flames  in  volumes  out, 
He  is  in  the  gloom 
Apportioning  doom, 
Dealing  death, 
Stifling  breath, 
Blasting  life 


1 6  THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.       PART  I. 

With  murderous  strife, 

Blood  distilling, 
The  field  with  wounds  and  tortures  filling, 

His  appetite  glutting 
With  butcheries  fell, 
Cutting  and  killing, 
Killing  and  cutting, 
Cutting  and  killing  and  sending  to  hell. 
Great  joy  he  ever  hath  displayed 
In  the  murderous  fusilade, 

In  which,  as  he  has  often  reckoned, 
A  dozen  men  may  fall  a  second, 

And  a  dozen  more 
May  be  disfigured  and  wounded  sore. 

Such  slaughter  quick 
Suits  the  Devil's  arithmetic. 
In  the  short  space  of  but  one  hour 
What  horrors  lie  within  his  power ! — 
Tortures  baneful, 
Sufferings  painful, 
Mutilations  past  the  name 
Of  this  fair  fleshly  frame 
Ripped  and  dismembered  oft, 
Its  cartilages  soft 
Torn  and  bleeding, 
Its  bones'  precise  anatomy 
And  linked  symmetry, 
By  blow  unheeding 

Crushed  into  mummy,  mashed  and  torn. 
And  all  these  horrors  to  be  borne 
'Mid  the  smoke  of  the  battle, 
And  the  musketry's  rattle. 
And  the  scream  of  the  shell 
On  its  errand  so  fell, 
And  the  ping  of  the  rifles, 
And  the  heat  and  the  dust  which  the  gasping  breath 

stifles ! 

Helpless  to  lie 
In  agony, 

'Mid  trampling  horses 
And  resistless  forces, 
And  deafening  roar 
Of  shells  hurtling  the  heaven  o'er, — 
Expecting  every  minute  that  is  passed 

To  be  their  last, 
From  squadrons  thundering  nigh 
And  cannons  rumbling  by 
And  regiments  marching — 
The  battle  and  its  revel 
Is  the  carnival  of  the  Devil. 
For  as  there  the  wretched  wounded  lie, 
With  dry  lips  parching, 


THE   DEVIL   ON   A   BATTLEFIELD.  17 

Praying  only  but  to  die, 
He  leaves  them  not  alone, 
But,   drinking  in  each  groan, 

He  comes  near 
And  sits  at  their  ear, 
Whispering   thoughts  of  home, 

To  which  they  ne'er  may  come, 
Raising  the  images  of  those  they  cherish 

Before  their  eyes, 
Far  from  whom  they  e'en  must  perish 

In  untold  agonies, — 
Making  the  torments  of  their  moments  last 

More  tremendous 

Than  all  the  woes  a  mortal  e'er  has  passed 
Most  stupendous. 
And  moreover, 
When  the  fight  is  over, 
He  leaves  them  not  alone ; 
But  if  they  linger  in  their  pain 
Heaving  many  a  groan 
On  the  plain, 

He  comes  in  human  shape  and  the  disguise 
Of  ruffian  plunderer  or  worse, 
And  ere  the  wounded  hero  dies, 

Stabs  him  with  a  curse, 
Or  throttling  him  he  tightens 

His  fleeting  breath, 
And  tenfold  heightens 
The  agonies  of  death. 
Such  are  the  scenes  of  a  bed  of  glory, 

Such  a  battle's  story. 
And  Patriotism,   Honour,   Duty, 

Are  all  the  Devil's  booty, 
Which  he  reaps  with  a  scowl  and  a  frown 
In  the  eve  when  the  sun  has  gone  down. 

THE    DEVIL   AT   A    SEAFIGHT. 

Of  horrors  dire,  tremendous, 

Most,  most  stupendous 
Are  those  which  in  the  battle  on  the  wave 

Send  mortals  to  a  bloody  grave, 
A  bloody  grave  most  pitiful,  since  dire  explosion 
On  the  wild  ocean 
The  poor  shape  shatters, 
And  rends  this  artful  frame  to  tatters, 
Casting  it  about  in  pieces 
Amid  a  roar  that  never  ceases 
Of  great  guns,  deep-voiced  and  sonorous, 
And  yelling  shells,  the  treble  of  the  chorus, 
And  springing  mines,  whose  hidden  womb 
Scatters  appalling  death  and  doom.     . 
Amid  this  scene  of  smoke  and  thunder 


1 8  THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.       PARTI. 

The  Devil  stands, 
Rubbing  his  hands, 
Exhilarated  by  the  sight 
Of  the  poor  limbs  torn  asunder 
And  other  spectacles  of  dire  affright. 
And  as  he  looms  presiding  o'er  the  storm, 
Enveloped  in  the  crash, 
With  his  fantastic  form 
Lit  up  by  the  fires  that  flash, 
He  looks  like  a  phantom  admiral  malign 
Guiding  the  operations. 

Conjuring  by  word  and  sign 
The  deathly  devastations. 
And  as  an  admiral,  is  he  dressed, 
With  brass  buttons  on  his  vest, 

And  cocked  hat  and  sash, 
And  sabre  dangling  with  a  clash. 
Some'times  a  flag  he  seizes, 
And  waving  it  amid  the  breezes 

Above  the  battle  gory, 
Shouts  "  Hey,  boys,  Death  and  Glory !  " 
And  at  this  moment  an  explosion  dire, 
Lit  by  a  torpedo's  deadly  fire, 
Hurls  up  a  battleship 
In  splinters  to  the  sky. 
Hundreds  of  men  to  fragments  it  doth  rip  ; 
Of  poor  mortality  a  very  rain  doth  fly. 
"  Death  and  Glory !  "  shrieks  the  Devil 

At  this  crisis  of  the  revel. 
"  'Twill  be  hard  to  make  selection 
Of  these  fragments  at  the  Resurrection." 
Thus  doth  he  sneer. 
And  thus  doth  jeer 

With  wild  delight. 

But  time  is  precious ;  and  next  minute, 
If  strife  has  slackened,  with  new  rage  he  doth  begin  it, 
And  stir  to  orgies  horrible  the  fight. 
Bang  go  the  guns !  Crash  go  the  vessels ! 
One  ship  is  rammed,  and  madly  wrestles, 
Like  victim  writhing  round  the  knife, 

For  its  life. 
But  'tis  in  vain!  Down,  down  it  goes 

'Mid  cyclopean  throes, 

With  seven  hundred  men  on  board,  who  sink  or  swim 
Meanwhile  the  Devil  with  humour  grim 
Scrutinises  their  struggles  dire. 
The  next  ship  he  sets  on  fire. 

For  a  change. 
Thus  doth  he  range 

Through  dreadnought,  battleship,   torpedo-boat, 
Destroyer,  cruiser,  all  that  are  afloat, 
Urging  the  gunners  to  fresh  exertion, 


THE  DEVIL  AT  A  SEAFIGHT.  1 9 

Driving  the  dazed  marines  to  deeds  of  dread  despair, 
Torturing  the  wretched  wounded  as  a  dear  diversion, 
Spreading  bewilderment  and  panic  everywhere. 
Two  hundred  guns  belch  through  the  reeking  air 

Smoke,  flame,  and  death. 

And  men  are  disembowelled,  torn  to  pieces  in  derision, 
A  thousand  in  a  breath 

Sent  to  perdition, 

The  race  annihilated  sheer — those  there  who  be, 
("  So  would  I  could  annihilate  them  all  !"  saith  he.) 

Believe  me,  gentry  of  the  world,  no  revel 
Is  more  delectable  to  the  Devil, 

No  pastime  to  his  taste  more  sweet, 
Than  set  him  tampering  with  a  Fleet. 

THE    DEVIL    IN    DRINK. 

'Tis  said  the  Devil  loves  his  tipple, 

And  that  in  Hell 
Is  heard  the  everlasting-  ripple 
Of  brandy,  whisky,  gin,  and  other  strong  potations, 

Which  drunkards  love  so  well ; 
That  one  of  his  main  occupations 
Is  with  his  devils 
To  hold  high  revels 
Sitting   amid   the   dark, 
Lit  only  with  the  sulphurous  spark, 
Drinking  and  noisily  carousing, 
All  Hell  with  staves  and  drinking-catches  rousing. 
Wherefore  most  willingly  he  shares  the  mirth 
Of  drinking  bouts  and  drinking  on  the  earth. 

And  'tis  his  whim 
Always  to  be  a  member  of  the  party, 

Sociable  and  hearty. 
Always  there's  a  glass  for  him. 
Have  you  never  observed  his  vacant  place, 

As  there  you  sit  sipping, 
Down  your  throat  the  liquor  slipping? 
Have  you  never  seen  his  foul  grimace, 
As  his  glass  he  lifts  up, 
Tossing  off  a  cup  ; 
Sometimes  drinking  to  your  health, 

Wishing  you  wealth 
(And  all  the  time  damnation)  ? 
'Tis  his  pet  recreation 
To  watch  you  keenly,  and  be  ever  ready 
For  the  moment  when  your  head  becomes  unsteady. 

Then,  fatal  hour  ! 
You  are  in  his  power ; 
And  forthwith  he  never  ceases 

To  use  you 
And  abuse  you 


20        THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  I. 

As  he  pleases. 

Out  in  the  night 
He  drives  you  blind  and  drunk, 
To  reel,  to  rave,  to  hiccup,  curse,  and  fight ; 
Or,   in  dead  bestial  torpor  sunk, 
To  stumble  in  the  gutter, 

And  there  lie 
In  misery  utter 
And  pitiable  infamy. 
But  the  Devil  has  better  scope 

And  dearer  hope, 
When  he  can  cultivate  a  craving, 
So  that  you  must  have  drink 
At  stated  times  a  day, 

Or  else  go  raving. 
And  if  you  rave  in  dire  delirium, 

They  say 

The  Devil  doth  in  his  own  person  come, 
And  show  himself  to  your  distracted  eyes, 
As  a  Devil  blue, 
Cerulean  of  hue, 

Or  as  Beelzebub,  the  king  of  flies, 
Making  flies  buz  round  you, 
And  gnats  and  wasps  confound  you, 
Till  your  poor  brain  doth  reel, 

And  you  feel 

Such  misery  that  even  Hell 
Can  find  to  it  no  parallel. 
With  distempered  fancies 
Your  tortures  he  enhances, 
And  teaches  you  by  their  reiteration 
No  foe  so  dire  as  the  imagination  ; 
No  agonies  of  body  and  no  pains 
So  cruel  as  the  pangs  of  tortured  brains. 

And  you  must  drink, 
To  make  you  cease  to  think. 
And  then  to  still  your  pain, 
You  must  drink  again ; 

Until  you  drain 

Cup  after  cup,  and  glass  by  glass, 
While  hours  fly  and  days  do  pass. 

Then  comes  the  fearful  night, 
Which  you  look  forward  to  with  dire  affright. 

"  Oh  !  for  God's  sake 
Let  me  not  lie  awake  !  " 

You  cry  despairing. 
"  Let  me  not  know  those  agonies  so  wearing, 

And  the  Devil  tearing 
My  very  heart  out  with  his  crooked  nails, 
Pestering  my  pillow  with  a  storm  of  terrors, 
Making  me  languish 
In  sleepless  anguish 


THE    DEVIL    IN    DRINK.  21 

At  long-  past  errors, 
To  rectify  which  nothing  now  avails." 

Meanwhile  the  room 
Is  full  of  phantoms  peopling  the  gloom, 
Spectres  horrible  and  fell, 

Coming  hot  from  hell, 

Who  close  around  to  choke  you  or  to  throttle, 
Till  you  stagger  to  your  legs 

And  seize  the  bottle, 
Draining  it  unto  its  dreg's. 
Then  perchance  you  feverishly  sleep ; 

But  your  sleep  is  populated 
With  the  same  crew  of  apparitions  hated — 
Who  your  poor  mind  in  horrors  steep, 
And  give  you  awful  dreams, 
Till  the  sweet  morning  light 
Whitens  the  night, 
Pierces  the  gloom, 
And  enters  your  room 
With  its  silver  ray 
Announcing  the  happy  day — 
To  others  happy,  but  not  to  you, 
For  you  in  your  day  find  nought  to  do, 
But  drink  and  tipple,   tipple  and  drink, 
Till  reeling  and  hiccuping  home  you  slink, 
And  prepare  for  another  night  again, 
Another  night  of  terror  and  pain. 

THE  DEVIL  AT  PROSTITUTION. 

But  of  all  things  at  which  he  tries  his  hand, 
The  Devil  best 
Doth  understand 
Prostitution. 
'Tis  an  institution 
In  which  he  takes  the  deepest  interest. 

He  has  founded  it 
In  times  of  great  antiquity. 

He  has  grounded  it 

Upon  our  inborn  inclination  to  iniquity. 
And  of  his  fell  devices  none  so  well 
Sends  millions  of  poor  souls  to  blazing  hell. 

In  the  execution 
Of  the  art  and  science  of  prostitution 

The  Devil  is  adept,  well  versed 
In  every  step  of  the  iniquity  accursed, 
From  its  first  shy  introduction, 

As  Seduction, 

To  its  dire  end  and  devilish  undoing, 
As  total  Wreck  and  utter  Ruin. 
All  the  arts  he  knoweth  well — 
He  sits  inventing  them  in  hell — 


22        THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  I. 

And  puts  them  into  practice  every  day, 
Teaching-  men  to  cozen  and  betray, 
(He  knows  the  lecherous 
Are  ever  treacherous) 

Showing-  them  how  most  astutely  to  beguile 
With  base  and  wanton  wile 

Each  unsuspecting  girl 
With  many  a  sunny  curl, 

Converting  her  into  a  hag  diseased  and  dirty, 
Before  she's  anything  like  thirty. 
From  the  ravishing  bliss 
Of  the  first  kiss, 
The  Devil  is  in  it, 
Busy  every  minute, 
And  surely,   most  surely, 

Though  she  bear  herself  however  so  demurely, 
The  blushing-  maiden 
With    scruples  laden, 

Too   coy 
To  fondle  and  to  toy, 

And  so  pretty 
She  would  wake  to  pity 
Any  but  a  heart  of  stone — 
Becomes  at  last  the  Devil's  own. 
Little  by  little  and  hour  by  hour 
He  gets  her  more  completely  in  his  power, 

In  love  her  lapping, 
His  snaky  self  around  her  wrapping. 
'Tis  his  delight 
To  clasp  her  tight, 
Winding  round  her  waist 
Once  so  chaste. 
Now  he  becomes  a  necklace  of  bright  gold, 

Slippery  and  cold, 

And  round  her  neck  and  on  her  bosom  bare, 
Oh  !  pillow  soft  and  fair, 

He  lieth ;  . 
While  she  dieth, 
And  giveth  freely  to  her  lover 
What  she  will  nevermore  recover. 
Now  he  becomes  a  ring — 
'Tis  a  little  thing, 

But  most  effective 
For  the  purpose  in  prospective, 
And  does  amazing  execution 
In  the  sphere  of  prostitution. 
You  can  put  it  on, 
Till  the  deed  is  done — 

"  Then,"  quoth  the  Devil  with  a  jibe  profane, 
"  You  easily  can  slip  it  off  again." 
Now  he  transforms  himself  into  a  dress, 
And  doth  her  lovely  body  all  possess  ; 


THE    DEVIL    AT    PROSTITUTION.  23 

Like  Nessus'  robe  which  Hercules  enwrapped, 
And  in  foul  fire  his  mighty  body  lapped  : 

So  this  fair  dress 

Of  milkwhite  lustre,  chiffon,  creamy  lace, 
Which  doth  like  floss  or  feathers  her  embrace, 
Wraps  her  round  to  her  distress, 
And  tears  her, 
And  wears  her, 
And  scarifies  her  skin, 

Burning"  its  way  in 
To  her  fair  flesh,  her  very  bone, 
Giving  cause  for  many  a  moan. 
It  is  the  offering  of  a  lover  gay, 
Who  would  gorge  himself  upon  her  beauty, 
Without  th'  attendant  duty 
Of  marriage  serious 
And  mysterious ; 

And  for  the  pleasure  wants  to  pay. 
And  if  she  doth  her  body  sell 

To  his  desire, 

The  robe  consumes  her  like  a  fire, 
And  in  his  arms  she  feels  the  pains  of  hell. 
Yet  she  will  sell  herself,  be  sure  : 
The  Devil  is  resistless  to  allure. 
Then  the  Devil  with  delight  will  melt 
Into  a  silver  belt, 
And  clasp  her  waist 

Unchaste, 
Now  his  domain, 
And  never  hers  again. 

Then  he  becomes  a  brooch  upon  her  neck  ; 
Then   earrings   in   her   ear,    each    with    a   diamond 

speck  ; 
Then  a  gold  chain,  which  round 

Her  throat  is  wound, 
And  twines  about  with  many  turnings  ; 
And    then    a    pretty    purse,    in    which    to    put    her 

earnings — 

But  by  this  time  the  Devil  has  got  tired. 
He  has  accomplished  all  he  had  desired ; 
And  now  prepares  to  hand  his  little  leman 
To  his  familiar  and  inferior  demons. 
They  seize  her  and  to  many  men  they  give  her. 
Perhaps  it  costs  her  at  the  first  a  shiver. 
But  she  gets  accustomed  soon 
To  lovers  as  inconstant  as  the  moon ; 
And  when  she  takes  in  due  time  to  the  streets, 
She  makes  a  friend  of  every  man  she  meets. 
'Tis  then  she  is  in  Hell  at  last 
Before  her  time.      The  Devil  has  her  fast. 
And  every  visitor 
Who  doth  solicit  her 


24        THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  I. 

Makes  the  matter  worse, 
And  aggravates  the  curse 
Of  vileness,  filth,  and  foul  disease, 
Which  doth  her  very  vitals  seize. 

Her  master, 

Who  has  led  her  on  to  this  disaster, 
Is  delighted  at  its  termination ; 

And  to  her  damnation, 
Out  of  the  joy  to  be  her  lord  and  owner, 
Often  comes  to  visit  her  in  propria  persona. 
'Tis  true  she  knows  it  not. 
And  yet  if  she  did  wot, 
Such  curious  bedfellows  she  oft  hath  had, 

Both  good  and  bad, 
Nothing  would  her  now  surprise. 
Yet  out  of  charity  let  us  surmise 
Her  wholly  ignorant  of  what  occurs. 

The  fault's  not  hers. 
The  stranger  who  solicits  her, 
And  in  her  chamber  visits  her, 
She  thinks  him  a  gentleman  gay  and  civil, 
But  in  truth  she  copulates  with  the  Devil. 
And  what  he^leaves  behind 

Poisons  not  her  mind, 
But  her  fair  body  whole  ; 

As  long  ago 

When  first  he  kissed  her, 
He  did  blister 
Her  white  soul. 
Oh  woe  !  oh  woe  ! 
The  fell  disease,  the  fester, 
Which  her  shapely  frame  doth  pester, 
Making  it  lazarlike  and  rotten, 
Like  some  imposthume  misbegotten, 
Sapping  her  strength 
Until  at  length 

She  scarce  can  lift  her  limbs — 
Such  corruption  in  them  swims. 
And  all  the  while 
She  must  pursue 
Her  calling  vile 
Which  she  doth  rue, 
Staggering  out  at  night 
In  the  misty  light, 
Men  to  coax 
Into  her  arms, 
And  to  hoax 
With  haggard  charms 
And  slavering  kiss. 
A  mass  of  foul  disease  she  is, 
Repulsive  to  the  sight  and  to  the  smell, 
Ready  for  Hell. 


THE     DEVIL    AT    PROSTITUTION.  25 


And  so  her  rottenness  increases, 
Till  she  rots  and  falls  in  pieces — 
And   the   Devil  laughs   exulting,   with   a  la 


And  the  Devil  laughs  exulting",  with  a  laugh  that 
never  ceases. 


THE    DEVIL   AT   CRIME. 

His  black  majesty  delights  to  pass  his  time 
With  thieves  and  criminals  and  their  fraternity, 
To  aid  them  and  abet  them  in  their  crime, 
And  then  to  damn  them  all  to  all  eternity. 
Robbers  and  burglars,  pickpockets  and  thieves, 
Cut-throats  and  ruffians,  coiners  and  their  gang — 
Such  company  reluctantly  he  leaves, 

Never  without  a  pang — 
Garotters,  welshers,  hooligans  and  cheats, 
Bullies  and  footpads  who  infest  the  streets, 
Cardsharpers,   smashers,   swindlers,   housebreakers, 
Forgers  and  poisoners  and  murderers — 
Fain  is  he  evermore  to  spend  his  time 
Amid  these  master-knaves  and  graduates  of  crime. 
He  sits  amid  them  intently  listening 
To  what  they  may  propose, 
His  left  eye  gently  glistening, 
His  finger  on  his  nose. 

He  holds  a  court, 
Whereto  they  may  resort, 

And  discuss 
Without  unnecessary  fuss 

In  terms  precise 

With  the  full  benefit  of  his  advice 
Their  plan  of  guilt, 
Their  deed  of  sin, 
What  blood  is  to  be  spilt, 
What  houses  broken  in, 
What  watches  grabbed, 
What  silver  nabbed, 
What  wayfarers  attacked, 
What  kens  are  to  be  cracked, 
What  locks   picked, 
What  windows  snicked, 

What  jewellers'  gutted, 
What  avarice  glutted, 

And  the  swag 
To  become  the  slag 
Of  the  dire  melting-pot, 
Which  in  the  Devil's  kitchen, 
With  simmer  most  bewitching, 
Perpetually  doth  boil, 

Bubbling  hot. 

'Tis  the  goal  of  all  their  toil, 
Where  watches,   rings,  chains,  trinkets,   lockets, 


26        THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  I. 

The  spoil  of  caskets,   safes,   and  pockets, 
In  indistinguishable  hodge-podge  roar, 
With  thieves  around  and  cut-throats  bending  o'er. 
Their  villain  looks,  black  as  the  Devil's  himself, 
As  they  behold  their  precious  pelf 
In  the  cauldron  boil, 
Bespeak  them  ready  for  a  broil, 
Fain  in  a  trice  the  whole  fell  swag  to  grab, 
And  for  the  precious  prize  their  dearest  "  pal  "  to  stab. 

In  the  coiners'  den 
The  Devil  oft  his  hours  doth  wile — 

In  their  den, 
Their  faking-ken, 
Where  with  battery  and  phial 
They  cast  their  mintage  vile. 
He  approves  of  the  smashers'  preparation, 
But  still  more  of  its  circulation ; 
And  he  scatters  the  base  pieces 
In  a  shower  that  never  ceases, 
Being  particularly  cheerful 

When  they  come  into  the  hands  of  some  poor  widows 
tearful, 

Or  the  poor,  or  of  any 
Who  can  ill  afford  to  lose  a  penny. 
Their  consternation, 
Their  fruitless  agitation, 
Give  him  unspeakable  delight. 
But  for  wreaking  of  his  spite 

Upon  our  race, 
Such  arena  slight 
Is  no  sufficient  place. 

He  must  consort  with  murderers ;  and  he  rambles 
'Arm  in  arm,  freezing  their  cruel  heart, 
And  decoying  the  poor  victim  to  their  shambles, 

With  every  cunning  art. 

Oft  in  his  own  fell  person  will  he  do  the  crime — 
This  occurreth  many  a  time. 
One  time  especially  have  I  heard  tell, 

And  remember  well, 
How  in  Whitechapel's  slums  a  man  held  murderous 

revel — 

No  man  was  he  but  the  incarnate  Devil. 
As  fittest  offerings  for  his  bloody  shambles, 
He  selected  women  on  his  nightly  rambles, 
Inveigling  them  within  his  mesh — 
Women,  whose  milkwhite  flesh 
Is  white  to  sight  and  velvet  soft  to  feeling, 

Even  though  sin  has  soiled  their  soul  past  healing. 
Their  swelling  breasts,  their  cream-white  thighs, 
His  taste  for  blood  did  only  appetise. 

WTherefore,  when  he  did  entangle  them, 
Meaning  but  to  mangle  them, 


THE  DEVIL  AT  CRIME.  2J 

Straightway  he  set  to  work, 
And  in  dark  room  did  lurk. 
He  kissed  them,  he  loved  them,  he  toyed, 
And  to  the  full  his  banquet  he  enjoyed — 
Then  raised  his  knife, 
And  his  poor  clinging-,  shrieking  wife, 
He  slashed,  he  stabbed,  he  sliced  to  pieces, 
Rioting  with  a  rage  that  never  ceases, 
In  horrible  orgy  slashing  and  cutting, 
With  mangled  flesh  his  appetite  glutting, 

Wallowing  in  the  blood 
Which  in  crimson  flood 
Him  and  his  victim  deeply  drenched. 

Till  at  the  last  roaring  he  wrenched 
Her  heart  from  out  her  bosom  rent, 
And  with  this  trophy  at  length  content 
Left  her — and  back  to  Hell  he  went. 
In  Holy  Writ  it  is  reported, 
Ere  the  Flood  drowned  the  earth  in  waters, 
The  Devil  and  his  angels  courted 
The  earth's  fair  daughters, 
Beguiling  them  with  an  infernal  kiss — 
And  how  they  loved  them  we  may  learn  by  this. 

THE    DEVIL    IN    POVERTY. 

The  Devil  has  a  minion, 

Who  in  my  opinion 
Is  nigh  as  bad  as  he  himself — 
An  elf, 
A  spectre 

Hideous  beyond  conjecture. 
Her  name,  alas  !  too  many  know  full  well — 
Her  name  is  Poverty  ;  she  comes  from  Hell. 
Hot  from  Hell  she  comes,  this  skeleton,  this  apparition, 

Coming  on  unfriendly  mission 
To  mortals  poor  in  garrets  and  in  dens, 
Whose  whereabouts  too  well  she  kens — 
But  not  alone  upon  her  path  uncivil, 
But  with  her  always  is  the  Devil, 
Who  comes  to  see  the  fun, 
The  awful  joke  when  people  are  undone, 
To  hear  them  curse  and  storm  and  swear 
Beneath  the  grinding  misery  they  cannot  bear, 
To  lap  the  bitter  tears  they  shed 

When  they  lack  bread, 
To  watch  them  smiting  the  bare  wall, 
Pacing  the  bare  room 
Bathed  in  gloom, 
Where  not  a  stick  at  all 
Of  furniture  exists, 
Wringing  their  hands,  clenching'  their  fists, 


28        THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  I. 

Half  mad  with  misery  and  care. 

"  Almighty  Hell  !  'tis  rare 

Sport,"    says    the    Devil,    and    nudging    his 

confrere, 
His  beastly  mate 
And  foul  associate, 
To  the  fray  he  harks  her  on. 
Then,   grinning  skeleton  ! 
Poverty  advances, 
And  she  dances 

With  her  rattling  bones  about  them, 
And  her  acrobatic  actions 
And  contractions 
Foil  and  flout  them. 
Her  jaws  are  gaunt  and  quivering. 
Her  every  limb  is  shivering. 
And  her  wretched  victims  shudder,  and  anticipate 

Their  fate. 

She  seizes  and  embraces  them, 
And  closely  interlaces  them  ; 

And  with  hugging  and  with  tugging, 
And  with  grasping  and  with  clasping, 
She  seeks  to  make  them  tire, 

She  seeks  to  throw  them  over  in  a  wrestle  long  and  dire. 
And  all  the  while  the  Devil  with  exultant  cachinnation 
Evinces  his  approval  of  the  gruesome  situation. 

He  likes  to  see 
A  worthy  man  in  misery, 
(And  he  so  often  sees  him,) 
A  great  man  crushed, 
Brought  level  with  the  dust 

By  grinding  Poverty 
(Nothing  can  better  please  him,) 

The  honest  man  become  a  thief, 
The  temperate,  to  drown  his  grief, 
Turn  to  a  drunkard  bestial, 
The  noble  and  high-souled  sink  from  his  state 

celestial 

Into  a  truckling  traitor  knave, 
The  generous  and  brave 

Become  a  felon  and  a  slave — 

All  these  are  sights  with  which  the  Devil  is  familiar. 
And  he  says  to  his  auxiliar, 

"  Pretty  Poverty, 
Thou'rt  very  dear  to  me. 
Though  I  have  many  a  minister 

Of  aspect  sinister, 
No  jackal  out  of  Hell 
Hunts  me  up  half  such  booty, 

And  does  his  duty 
So  conscientiously  and  well. 
For  thy  reward  I  here  decree, 


THE  DEVIL  IN  POVERTY.  29 

A  parl  of  Hell  shall  be  assigned  to  thee, 
As  thy  peculiar  province  and  domain. 
There  thou  shalt  reign. 
And,  to  show  thee  how  I  prize  thee, 
I  here  advise  thee 
I  have  decided, 
The  worst 
And  most  accursed 
Of  all  the  damned  in  Hell  immersed, 
Shall  to  thy  tender  mercies  be  confided." 

THE    DEVIL    ON    A    CATTLESHIP. 

D'ye  know,   His  Devilship 
May  oft  be  met  as  master  of  a  cattleship? 
In  which  capacity, 
Trust  my  veracity, 
He  has  more   opportunity 
To  exercise  his  calling-  with  immunity, 
Than  in  a  dozen  other  spheres  of  his  profanity, 
Where  he  is  only  persecuting  poor  humanity. 

And  in  the  cattleship, 
With  spiked  and  loaded  club  within  his  grip, 

He  moves  about, 
Dealing  the  fenceless  rout 

Of  terrified  brutes  such  blows  and  bloody  gashes, 
As  with  his  club  their  heads  and  eyes  he  slashes, 
That  mad  with  terror,  and  with  blood  blind, 
They  plunge  about,  in  stalls  confined, 
Amid  the  washing  waves  and  the  roaring  wind, 
Trampling  each  other,  killing  each  other  sheer, 
In  their  ignorance  and  their  agony  and  their  fear. 
Quoth  the  Devil,  "  'Tis  thus  that  I  prepare 

The  sumptuous  fare, 
Which  West  End  dinner-tables  bear. 
The  guests  have  luxuries  galore. 
But  I — I  have  my  fun  before. ' ' 
As  when  in  hot  Calcutta  the  Black  Hole 
Yawned  and  received  within  its  sultry  den, 
Where  scarce  was  space  for  e'en  a  single  soul, 
Two  hundred  of  our  hapless  countrymen ; 
All  through  the  night,  stuffed,  stifled  in  their  pen, 
They  yelled,  screamed,  prayed,  they  struggled  and 

they  died  : 

("  I  was  among  them,"  quoth  the  Devil.     "  Well 
I  recollect  that  night,  to  which  not  Hell 
In  its  worst  form  could  find  a  parallel. 
'Twas  ecstasy  to  hear  them  how  they  yelled  and  cried, 
To  see  them  bathed  in  perspiration, 

Melting  like  damnation — 

'Twas  one  of  my  great  triumphs  was  that  night, 
And  gave  me  such  delight, 


30  THE    EPIC    OF   GOD   AND    THE    DEVIL.       PART    I. 

That  not  to  be  deprived  of  it,  I  smacked  my  lips, 

And  invented  cattleships. 
And  now  my  tastes  at  ease  I  gratify, 

As  I  can  amply  ratify.") 
As  when  the  gloomy  Black  Hole  did  entomb 
Those  helpless  victims  in  its  stifling  womb  : 
So  in  their  pens  the  oxen,  fresh  from  open  wold 
And  wide  savannahs  airy,  free  and  cold, 

Fragrant  with  grass  and  heather, 
Huddle  and  sweat,  in  hundreds  stuffed  together, 
Immured  in  sweltering  tunnel 
Near  the  giant  funnel, 
Which  radiates  an  Afric  heat  eternal, 
And  brings  them  sufferings  infernal. 
In  vain  they  low  and  bellow  in  their  hell, 
And  mad  with  suffering  on  each  other  tread, 
Seeking  a  draught  of  air  amid  the  stench  and  smell, 
The  struggling  beasts,  the  dying  and  the  dead. 
("  This  state  of  things,"  the  Devil  cries, 
"  Doth  exactly  realise 
My  best  intention. 
O'er  cattleships 
I  smack  my  lips  ; 
They  are  my  pet  invention.") 

THE  DEVIL  IN  A  SLAUGHTER-HOUSE. 

Hewing  and  hacking,  gashing  and  slashing, 
Mauling  and  mangling,   hashing  and  mashing, 
Into  the  pit  of  a  slaughter-house  readily 
In  jumps  the  Devil,  and  goes  to  work  steadily — 
Into  the  pit  that  with  sheep  is  all  huddled, 
Bleating,  together  in  agony  cuddled, 
On  them  he  jumps,  and  with  barbarous  knife, 
Gleaming  athirst  to  take  their  life, 
Kneeling  bestrides  them  one  by  one, 
Pausing  ne'er  till  his  work  is  done, 
And,  wrenching  their  timid  heads  up,  gloats 
In  cutting  their  unprotected  throats. 
Little  by  little  the  pit  it  floats 

Knee-deep  in  blood.  Then  His  Devilship  sniggering, 
Daubed  with  a  plaster  of  colour  disfiguring, 
Sits  like  a  cormorant  on  the  shoulder 
Of  a  slaughterer,  making  him  bolder 
By  whispering  counsel  into  his  ear 
To  gash  and  slash  and  have  no  fear; 
Making  a  bet,  that  in  so  many  minute 
He'll  clear  the  pit  and  all  that's  in  it. 
One  of  these  so  bloody  tussles 
Once  I  heard  of,  when  in  Brussels — 
'Twas  to  the  effect, 
As  I  recollect, 


THE    DEVIL    IN    A    SLAUGHTER-HOUSE.  '3! 

That  the  Devil  disguised  as  a  butcher  witty, 
An  Englishman — and  more's  the  pity — 
Wagered  he  had  the  diabolic  power 
Of  killing  six  hundred  sheep  within  an  hour. 
Whether  he  won  his  bet, 

I  forget. 

But  certainly  I  can  picture  his  face 
And  diabolical  grimace, 
Among  the  ruins  of  the  sheep 
And  bleeding  entrails  heap  on  heap, 
Sitting  like  Ajax,  when  he  did  destroy 
Flocks  of  sheep  instead  of  regiments  at  Troy, 
And  sat  grinning  in  his  tent, 

In  idiot  merriment 

At  the  bleeding  fragments  round  him, 
The  offal,  garbage,  guts,  that  did  surround  him  : 
So  sat  the  Devil,  and  so  he  sits 
In  many  a  slaughter-house  every  day, 
When  at  length  he  has  ceased  to  slay, 
Sitting  in  triumph  and  munching  the  bits, 

In  the  blood  paddling, 
On  the  garbage  in  triumph  straddling, 
And  "  This  is  the  way,"  he  cries,  "  that  I  arrange 

The  whirligig  of  life. 
I  make  it  one  elaborate  interchange 

Of  death  and  strife. 
Hurrah  for  victory  and  strife  eternal, 
The  crown  of  my  diplomacy  infernal  ! 
I  make  one  race  upon  another  prey, 
Each  race  the  other  slay. 

I  do  decree 

In  this  weak  world  perpetual  feud  shall  be 
Twixt  race  and  race  and  tribe  and  family. 

That  one  may  live, 
Another  must  be  martyred. 
That  men  may  thrive, 
Beasts  must  be  tortured. 
That  beasts  may  feed, 
How  many  beasts  must  bleed  ! 
How  many  a  simple  brute  must  fatten, 
That  others  on  its  flesh  may  batten  ! 

How  many  birds  of  prey 
Pounce  down  their  brother  birds  to  slay  ! 
That  humbler  birds  their  life  may  cherish, 
Insects  in  holocausts  must  perish. 

And  in  the  sea 
What  massacres  there  be  ! 

Fishes  in  legions  overpowering, 
With  other  fish  their  multitudes  devouring — 
The  herring  killed  by  mackerel, 
The  mackerel  martyred  by  the  eel, 
The  eel  by  the  swift  salmon  followed, 


32        THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  I. 

The  salmon  by  the  dolphin  swallowed, 
The  dolphin  in  the  waters  dark 
Pursued  and  gobbled  by  the  shark. 

Oh  !  in  the  sea 
'Tis  royal  sport  for  me ; 
For  almost  all  the  quiet  ocean 
With  war  and  rapine  is  in  dire  commotion. 
Thus  I  arrange 
Life  in  pattern  strange, 
(For  be  it  known 
I  am  omnipotent,) 
Making  life  death, 
Stifling  breath, 
A'nd  holding  only  strife  and  slaughter  excellent." 

THE  DEVIL  AT  VIVISECTION. 

O  agony  most  dire  !  O  Devil, 

Who  made  this  agony — now  for  thy  most  unholiest  revel, 
Most  villainous  invention, 
Vile  vivisection  ! — tortures  that  harrow 
And  dry  up  our  marrow 
At  the  mere  mention. 
Into  a  charnel  house  we  go, 
A  charnel  house  of  woe, 
Where  those,  who  should  be  dead, 
Yet  live  and  feel, 
Where  dead  things  stir,  and  corpses  reel. 

Here  helpless  animals  are  ta'en, 
And  outraged  of  their  life  with  cruel  pain, 
Their  sweet  life  put  to  mockery, 
Their  cunning  form  abused  with  heartless  levity ; 
And  here  the  Devil  sitting  like  a  surgeon, 

A  most  immaculate  chirurgeon, 

Holds  forth  upon  the  needs  of  Science — cursed  study  ! 
That  has  killed   souls  in  thousands,   and  would  fain 

too  kill  the  body. 

Never  such  handle  had  the  Devil  before, 
Never  such  theme  to  pour 
His  superficial  rhetoric  o'er — 

Never  such  handle  to  contrive 
Vile  torturing  of  things  alive ; 
Never  such  text  to  cover  up  his  crime 
And  blind  the  eyes  of  men  with  sophistries  sublime. 
Accursed  Science  ! — cursed  study  ! 
Vocation  barbarous  and  bloody, 
Here  is  thy  temple, 
Here  proceeds  thy  revel, 
Presided  over  by  the  Devil. 

"  Almighty  Hell  !  "  'tis  thus  he  cries 
To  his  adoring  votaries  ; 
"  We,  who  have  met  on  this  occasion, 


THE    DEVIL    AT    VIVISECTION.  33 

Are  gentlemen  of  one  persuasion — 

We  all  agree  no  God  exists, 

All  are  unshrinking  atheists. 

We  hold  the  world  a  mechanism, 

And  have  no  creed  or  catechism. 

God,  Heaven,  Hereafter,  are  mere  vanity. 

And  nought  remains  but  sweet  humanity. 

Since  on  these  points  we're  all  agreed, 

Let  the  sacrifice  proceed  ! — 
A  sacrifice,  which  'twere  insanity 
To  call  a  criminal  profanity, 
Since  'tis  to  benefit  humanity." 
Then  come  in  miserable  line, 
Led  on  by  chemists 
And  anatomists 
To  the  Devil's  shrine, 

Poor  dogs  and  frisking  rabbits  full  of  life, 
Destined  to  be  the  sport  of  ruthless  knife, 
Of  cruelties  the  most  refined 
Which  can  suggest  themselves  to  human  mind, 
Plied  with  barbarity  unrelenting. 
In  vain  they  lick  the  hand  of  those  who  slay  them. 
Their  cruelty  knows  no  repenting ; 

For  it  is  Science, 
A  sham  that  bids  defiance 

To  human  instincts,  and  to  Nature  and  to  God, 
A  senseless  wild  concatenation 
Of  baseless  theories,  doctrines  odd, 
Which  the  next  generation 

Will  certainly  pronounce  downright  hallucination. 
Thus  is  it  that  the  Devil  deceives  us, 

And  then  leaves  us, 
To  chuckle  in  his  sleeve, 
While  we  can  nought  but  grieve. 
And  'tis  to  such  a  sham,  O  Christ, 
Thy  creatures  fair  are  sacrificed. 
He  who  a  living  frog  did  take  and  skin, 
Then  watched  its  fearful  sufferings  with  scientific  grin, 
Should  have  been  seized  with  like  severity, 
And  skinned  alive  to  terrify  posterity. 
His  name  was  G.  H.  Lewes  ;  and  may  he  be 
Branded  with  lasting  infamy, 

For  the  poor  little  mites  he  robbed  of  life, 
And  tortured  with  his  hellish  knife  ! 

An  Italian, 
A  cursed  rapscallion, 
Whose  name  I  do  forget,  nor  am  I  fain 
It  to  remember — put  to  devilish  pain, 

Which  he  himself  confessed  excels 
The  tortures  of  ten  thousand  hells, 
A  poor  sweet  rabbit ;  whom  he  took, 
And,  that  he  might  the  better  look, 


34       THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  I. 

Enclosed  in  magnifying  glass  the  while. 
He  put  the  pretty  thing  to  tortures  vile. 
With  scalpel  and  with  pick  he  did  proceed 
To  make  each  individual  vein  to  bleed, 
And  pick  out,  with  a  hand  that  did  not  swerve, 
From  every  vein  its  individual  nerve. 
This  operation  days  and  days  proceeded  ; 
Its  pain  all  unimaginable  pain  exceeded. 
The  victim  writhed  and  whimpered,  writhed  and  died, 
While  he  relentlessly  his  savage  tortures  plied. 
Such  pains  as  these,  the  man,  the  fiend,  confessed, 
Could    by    the    anguish    of    a    thousand    hells    not    be 

expressed — 

But  oh,  my  pen  I  can  no  more,  no  more. 
With  horror  steeped,  I  must  give  o'er. 

(But  I  would  add, 

'Twould  make  me  glad — 

And  fain  for  it  would  I  give  all  my  money — 
To  see  this  w^retch  with  tortures  mad, 

In  hell,  or  in  a  place  as  bad, 
For  barbarously  torturing  "  poor  Bunny.") 

THE  DEVIL  AS  A  FISHERMAN. 

Fish  say  it  was  the  Devil  who 
Taught  men  to  angle — 
To  drop  a  hook 
In  bubbling  brook, 
To  let  it  sink  the  gurgling  water  through, 

And  to  entangle 

Some  hapless  scalebearer  of  silvery  hue, 
Ensheathed   in   spangle 
Glittering  and  fair, 
All  unsuspicious  of  a  snare, 
Who,  ploughing  pliantly  the  limpid  water, 

Exchanges  suddenly  his  path  triumphant  there 
For  tortures  horrible  and  slaughter 
Coldly  protracted,  as  he  is  dragged 
Hither  and  thither  with  hook  jagged 

Fixed  in  his  entrails  tender, 
Which  doth  acutest  pain  engender  ; 
Until  at  last  he  on  the  bank  is  lying, 
Expiring,  panting,  and  with  terror  dying. 

So  say  the  fish.     And  what  say  we? 
I  for  my  part  do  with  the  fish  agree, 
And  feel  convinced  most  certainly, 
Unless  the  Devil  had  had  a  hand  in  it, 
A  way  more  merciful  there  sure  would  be 

For  catching  a  poor  fish  and  landing  it. 
Let  us  not  speak.     This  is  a  bagatelle. 
If  you  would  know  some  of  the  tortures  dire  of  Hell, 
Turn  to  the  fish  trade,  and  there  find 


THE    DEVIL    AS    A    FISHERMAN.  35 

How  the  Devil  riots  in  barbarities  unkind, 

And  spreads  his  merciless  damnation 

All  through  the  circuit  of  creation. 

Poor  cod  !  poor  fishes  !  we  can  ne'er  surmise 

Their  dire  unutterable  agonies, 
When,  baled  from  out  their  native  element, 
And  packed  in  perforated  well, 

A  watery  hell, 
They  lie  in  thousands  close  together  pent, 

Choked  with  oppression  overpowering, 
Starving  for  weeks,  and  then  devouring 
In  wolfish  famine  their  own  livers  up. 

They  who  survive 
In  semi-animation 
Are  to  a  worse  fate  yielded  up — 

Are  crimped   alive, 
And  suffer  such  damnation, 

Pen  will  not  write  it, 
Thought  will  not  indite  it. 
And  all  this  mass  of  cruelties  uncivil — 

Unnecessary  pain,  to  please  the  Devil  ! 
Who  hath  beheld — as  I  have  done,  alack  ! 
The  crabs'  and  armoured  lobsters'  agonies, 
When  them  the  men  in  tubs  and  barrels  pack, 
To  send  to  London's  market  its  supplies? 

In  truth,   'tis  pitiful. 
Into  the  barrel  in  their  scores  they  go, 
Until  the  tub  is  full. 
Then — work  of  woe  ! — 

Down  are  they  pressed,  and  others  are  piled  in, 
And  rammed  upon  them  tight — so  goes  the  work  of  sin. 
To  make  room,  claws  are  broken,   shells  with  hammer 
cracked — 

Till  they  are  fully  packed  ; 
Those  at  the  top  all  mutilate  and  hacked, 
Those  underneath  wedged  in  a  solid  mass,   immovable 

and  dumb. 

And  over  all  is  nailed  the  barrel's  drum. 
As  bricks  which  in  a  wall 

Are  mortared  all, 
And  tightly  set  together, 
That  neither  wind  nor  weather 
Can  e'er  disturb  their  layers  symmetrical, 
But  in  one  block  of  architecture  clever 
So  they  are  set  at  first,  and  so  they  stand  for  ever  : — 
Just  so  the  crabs  and  armoured  lobsters,  packed 
In  one  mute  mass  of  agony,   for  hours  with  pain  are 

racked  : — 

Or  as  that  Persian  wall 
Too  terrible  to  tell, 

Which  Rustam  made,  with  terror  to  appal, 
And  to  ensure  the  tortures  dire  of  hell ; 


36        THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  I. 

In  which  he  built  his  enemies, — dire  monster  fell  ! 
Men,  men  alive,  with  mortar  he  cemented, 

And  ne'er  repented, 

Nor  at  their  hideous  sufferings  relented, 
Till  finished  was  that  wall  of  misery, 

And  the  men  were  masonry — 
All  but  their  heads,  which  were  left  free. 
And  they  who  came  to  view  the  structure  vile, 
Saw  men   not   stones,    with   heads   still   moving — for   a 

little  while  ! 


THE  DEVIL  AS  SPORTSMAN. 

Bang  !  bang  !  goes  the  gun. 

'Tis  the 'Devil's  fun, 
Which  he  enjoys  immensely. 

To  see  the  creatures  fall, 
Mangled  and  bleeding  all — 
In  this  amusement  he  delights  intensely. 

To  see  wings  blown  away, 

And  all  the  plumage  gay 
Scattered  in  foul  confusion  on  the  heather — 
That  is  his  darling  sport 
Of  most  bewitching  sort, 
When  he  and  sportsmen  royster  it  together. 

For  in  a  Norfolk  suit 

At  almost  every  shoot 
The  Devil  forms  a  member  of  the  party, 

With  figure  tall  and  straight, 

And  calves  immaculate, 
And  face  and  manner  rubicund  and  hearty. 

'Tis  true  they  see  him  not. 

But  that  is  oft  the  lot 
Of  those  who  join  with  Satan  in  a  revel. 

But  the  poor  birds  and  hares, 

Up  starting  from  their  lairs, 
They  see  him — and  they  know  him  as  the  Devil. 

In  early  morn  the  deer, 

Waking  with  sudden  fear 
Amid  the  fresh  and  fragrant  greenwood  round  him, 

Divines  the  hour  is  nigh. 

When  he,  alas  !  must  die, 
And  hell  with  all  its  tortures  will  confound  him. 

The  fox  hears  on  the  morn 

The  sound  of  hound  and  horn  : 
He  knows  all  day  the  Devil  will  him  follow  ; 

That  he  to  death  must  run, 

Till,  when  his  strength  is  done, 
He  hears  the  Devil's  loud  triumphant  holloa. 

For  whether  'tis  a  chase 

At  helter  skelter  pace, 
Or  whether  'tis  a  coursing  match  of  mettle, 


THE    DEVIL    AS    SPORTSMAN.  37 

When  puss,  with  terror  wild, 
Screams  like  a  little  child 

When  the  grim  greyhound's  fangs  upon  her  settle; 
Or  'tis  a  pigeon  match, 
When  pigeons  by  the  batch 
Are  blown  with  heartless  devilry  to  pieces ; 

Or  if  'tis  a  battue, 
That  sport  refined  and  new — 
The  Devil's  mirth  and  laughter  never  ceases. 
And  if  'tis  a  battue, 
I'll  show  you  what  he'll  do — 

The  golden  pheasants,  crested,  plumed  and  flying, 
He   drives  in  thousands  round 
To  some  entrapping  ground, 
Where  guns  in  dozens  lay  them  dead  or  dying. 
Bang  go  the  guns  !  bang  !  bang  ! 
And  as  the  barrels  rang, 

The  smoke,  the  roar,  the  turmoil,  is  tremendous. 
The  lovely  birds,  like  rain, 
Drop  dead  upon  the  plain, 
All  mangled  in  a  massacre  stupendous. 
Thus  does  the  Devil  vent  his  mirth. 
He  realises  Hell  on  earth — 
Hell  for  the  pheasants — and  what  joy 
For  those  the  pheasants  who  destroy? 
D'ye  say  we  kill  them,  eh?  to  eat  them? 

Then  I'd  lay, 
We  sure  could  find  a  kinder  way 

To  treat  them. 

Depend  upon  it,  men  and  sinners, 
Who  fancy  pheasant  for  your  dinners ; 
And  other  ye,  who  like  to  eat 
The  delicatest  things  in  meat  ; 
If  God,  when  making 
The  world,  and  taking 

Such  pains  to  clothe  in  love  his  fair  invention — 
If  God,  I  say, 
Had  had  his  way, 

Without  the  Devil's  damned  intervention, 
Then  there  had  been  no  blood  ; 
We  all  had  chewed  the  cud, 
Like  the  poor  sheep  and  oxen  in  the  daisies. 
But  oh  !  woe,  woe  ! 
The  Devil  will  not  have  it  so, 
But  through  the  world  perpetual  feud  he  raises. 

And  in  the  fatal  feud 
Are  hands  with  blood  imbued ; 

And  in  the  strife  and  pother 
Each  man  against  his  brother, 
Each  animal  is  set  against  the  other, 
To  slaughter  and  to  kill, — 
That  is  the   Devil's  will, 


38       THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  I. 

Not  God's,  be  sure,  a  God  of  peace  and  mercy. 
But   'tis  the  Devil's  way, 
Who  evermore  doth  say, 

"  Kill,  mangle,  slaughter  one  another,  curse  ye  ! 
"  Upon  each  other  prey, 

And  do  the  best  ye  may 

To  turn  this  world  of  peace  into  a  shambles, 
So  that  my  fiends  and  I  may  find 
Your  world  exactly  to  our  mind, 
Whene'er  we  visit  you  upon  our  rambles." 


THE  CONFLICT  BETWEEN  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.       39 

PART  II. 
THE  CONFLICT  BETWEEN  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL. 


Rappalus  and  Griboulliz,  devils  twain, 
Inferior  fiends  and  of  a  humble  rank, 
Once  wandered  lost  upon  the  endless  plain, 
Which  spreads  in  swamps  and  sad  savannahs  dank 
Sheer  through  the  world  of  darkness,  raw  and  rank — 
A  world  where  gloom  and  nig-ht  eternal  reigns, 
No  sunbeam  cheers  the  wildernesses  blank  : 
Darkness  it  is  and  darkness  it  remains. 

Here  the  two  devils  wandered,  lost  upon  the  plains. 
They  were  a  pair  of  stragglers,  who  had  fled 
In  a  late  conflict  of  the  populace, 
Who  tenant  that  dominion,  dark  and  dead — 
And,  having  flung  promiscuous  from  the  place, 
They  knew  not  how  their  footsteps  to  retrace, 
But  wandered  on,  with  doubts  and  terrors  tossed. 
Forward  and  back  they  went  in  aimless  pace, 
Now  turned  aside,  now  what  they  crossed  re-crossed — 

Paused  baffled,  and  at  last  gave  themselves  up  for  lost. 
Then  Rappalus  unto  Griboulliz  said  : 
"  'Twas  this  way,  brother,  or  I  am  mistaken." 
"  Nay  !  "  cried  Griboulliz.     "  Thou  hast  lost  thy  head. 
"  It  was  the  other  way  we  should  have  taken. 
And  since  we  have  the  other  way  forsaken, 
Wrong  have  we  gone  entirely.     'Twas  the  right." 
"  I  say  the  left.     My  certainty's  unshaken." 
Therewith  the  twain,  to  set  the  matter  right, 

With  claws  and  teeth  and  nails  forthwith  began  to  fight. 
The  fight  was  over  and  they  both  were  sore. 
They  paused  confused,  and  knew  not  what  to  do. 
On,  on  they  wandered  o'er  the  darkened  moor, 
Which  every  step  darker  and  grimmer  grew. 
Nought  but  black  darkness  loomed  upon  the  view. 
Beneath  their  feet  was  sandy  desert  spread, 
Where  scurfy  scrub  and  tussock  grasses  grew. 
On,  on  they  wandered  with  unwilling  tread 

O'er  this  eternal  waste  bleak,  barren,  black,  and  dead. 
At  last,  when  from  despair  they  fain  would  sink, 
They  spied  surprised  a  curious  thread  of  gold 
Far  off — as   'twere  some  chance  unguarded  chink 
In  a  vast  bastion,  beetling  huge  and  bold, 
Which  did  a  world  of  light  and  day  enfold. 
Amid  the  dark  no  other  thing  it  seemed  ; 
Since  night  and  endless  gloom  around  were  rolled, 


40       THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  II. 

Blotting-  out  all  in  the  blank  black  that  teemed, 
Except  this  glinting-  chink,  through  which  the  glory  gleamed. 
Pricked  with  inquisitiveness  and  amaze, 
The  fiends  resolved,  however  tired  they  were, 
To  post  towards  the  fountain  of  those  rays, 
So  to  discover  what  lay  hidden  there. 
Wherefore  perpetually  on  they  fare, 
Until  at  last  it  seemed  they  nearer  drew ; 
For  the  thin  thread  amid  the  dusky  air 
Became  more  palpable  and  plain  to  view, 
And  every  moment  brighter  and  more  glorious  grew. 
They  had  arrived.     Nigh  dazzled  by  the  sheen, 
For  their  bleared  eyes  but  used  to  darkness  were, 
Groping  they  pushed  their  hands  in  front,  to  ween 
What  were  before  them,  substance  firm  or  air? 
And  came  against  a  mighty  bastion  there, 
Which  hid  a  universe  behind  its  back. 
This  as  they  felt  with  caution  and  with  care, 
They  found  the  rock  was  severed  with  a  crack, 
Which  cleft  its  face  in  twain  in  one  continuous  track. 
Through  this  they  peered.     And  spectacle  enthralled 
With  wonder  and  astonishment  their  gaze. 
For  they  beheld,  at  the  bright  sight  appalled, 
A  world  of  light,  a  universe  of  rays, 
Plains  sweeping  out  beneath  a  noonday  blaze, 
And  on  the  plains  angelic  forms  to  see, 
Winged,  helmeted,  in  armies  and  arrays. 
Amazed  were  those  two  devils  utterly. 
Nor  what  to  think  or  deem  they  knew  not  properly. 
Ne'er  had  they  heard,  ne'er  had  they  dreamt  before 
Of  light,  of  day,  of  world  or  region  such. 
Fain  would  they  view  the  spacious  district  o'er. 
Much  would  they  see,  but  yet  could  not  see  much, 
So  thin  the  tiny  fissure  which  they  clutch. 
Eager  to  spy  what  could  through  chink  be  seen, 
Their  face  and  straining  eyes  the  bastion  touch. 
'Twas  but  a  glimpse  they  caught,  the  crack  between ; 
But  that  one  glimpse  revealed  a  universe  of  sheen. 
Brimful  of  their  immense  discovery, 
Big  with  importance  at  the  news  they  bring, 
Back  into  Hell  they  straight  resolve  to  hie, 
And  carry  the  great  tidings  to  their  King, 
Who  like  themselves  ne'er  knew  of  such  a  thing 
As  that  gay  world,  which  they  by  chance  had  viewed. 
In  Hell  was  darkness  ever  lowering, 
And  all  the  time  by  its  fell  multitude 
Was  passed  in  ceaseless  quarrel  and  intestine  feud. 
To  Hell  at  length  nigh  wearied  out  they  came, 
And  found  it  all  contention  and  all  broil, 
All  darkness,  lit  at  times  with  ghastly  flame — 
Battles  still  raged  and  turbulent  turmoil ; 
Through  which,  albeit  tired,  they  ne'er  recoil 


THE    CONFLICT    BETWEEN    GOD    AND    THE    DEVIL.  4! 

To  push  their  way,  full  wary  of  the  blows, 
To  where  on  quagmires  and  on  quaking1  soil 
The  palace  of  the  King-  of  Hell  arose, 

Buttressed  on  mouldering  beams  and  piles  in  rotten  rows. 
Here  they  recited  to  their  monarch's  ear 
The  tidings  they  incontinently  bring-. 
Well  pleased  was  he  th'  intelligence  to  hear. 
Complacently  did  smile  the  grisly  king, 
And  quoth  he  had  forgotten  of  such  thing, 
But  now  that  they  recited  their  strange  story, 
Dim  recollections  were  engendering 
Out  of  a  buried  past,  long  grey  and  hoary, 

When  he  remembered  well  those  realms  of  light  and  glory. 
They  were  his  own,  belonged  to  him  by  right ; 
He  had  been  ousted  from  these  realms  he  owned, 
And  headlong  plunged  in  everlasting  night. 
By  his  own  offspring  had  he  been  dethroned 
(Which  made  his  fate  the  trebly  to  be  moaned) 
By  his  own  offspring  whom  he  had  begotten, 
Who  now  reigned  there  in  light  and  joy  enthroned, 
While  he  lay  here  weak,  blasted,  and  forgotten, 

In  this  foul  world  of  death  and  putrefaction  rotten. 
But  not  so  long.     Now  that  the  past  came  rising 
In  all  its  radiant  brightness  to  his  mind, 
Time  would  he  not  waste  more  in  temporising, 
But  to  the  enterprise  would  be  inclined, 
To  re-possess  those  realms  he  had  resigned, 
Torn  from  his  grasp  by  treachery  unkind, 
And  by  his  son  usurped,  whom  pride  did  blind  — 
A  parvenu,   a  king  of  mushroom  kind ; 
While  he  supremely  old,  though  crushed,  maligned, 

Had  ruled  the  heavens  before  his  reign  time  out  of  mind. 
Forthwith  he  was  resolved.     So  let  them  say, 
And  straight  through  Hell  the  flaming  tidings  fling, 
That  Satan  had  resolved  without  delay 
To  march  against  the  Heaven's  usurping  king, 
Him  to  account  and  punishment  to  bring 
For  occupying  honours  not  his  own. 
He  ceased  ;  and  them  not  further  favouring, 
Moodily  turned  toward  his  palace  lone, 

And    they   to   speed   through    Hell    and   make    the    message 

known. 

From  one  tumultuous  concourse  to  the  next, 
All  bathed  in  feud,  in  quarrel  and  in  fray, 
With  which  dark  Hell  for  evermore  is  vexed, 
Ran  the  good  news  and  information  gay 
Of  the  high  enterprise  they  shall  assay. 
Forthwith,  although  with  difficulty  dire, 
The  wrestling  combatants  and  legions  lay 
Their  cause  of  quarrel  down,  and  stayed  their  ire, 

For  the  high  aim  which  did  their  mettle  most  require. 
Dumah  with  Atarcuph,  Chobabiel 


42       THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  II. 

With  his  old  enemy  Araciel, 

Sampsich  with  Uzza,  and  with  Balciel 

Azazel  most  libidinous  in  Hell, 

Pharmar  with  Tyriel  and  Eumiel — 

Ceased  their  dire  feuds,  which  everlasting  raged, 

And  turned  to  rest  from  controversy  fell. 

One  moment  were  their  conflicts  dire  assuaged, 
That  war  might  better  be  on  peaceful  Heaven  waged. 

All,  all  in  Hell  prepared,  not  these  alone — 

All  the  dire  fiends  its  inky  womb  doth  own  : 

Great  Semiaxas,  who  to  Satan's  throne 

Next  in  supremacy  and  power  was  known, 

Horammamee,   Mozazor,  Rayaboan, 

Baradiel,   Barakiel,   Rameel, 

Azalcel,    Sarinas,   Anaggimon, 

Samael,   Thausael,   and   Matareel, 
Rubiel,  Jamiel,  Shalgotha,  Amareel. 

These  with  their  myrmidons  of  fiends  and  elves, 

Goblins  and  ghouls   and  apparitions  fell, 

Were  emulously  busying  themselves 

All  through  the  inky  fastnesses  of  Hell 

In  preparations  for  a  war  past  parallel, 

Which  they  were  soon  to  wage  'gainst  Heaven's  high  King. 

Such  conflict  did  their  own  so  far  excel, 

Scarce  could  they  curb  their  courage  blustering, 
Or  to  a  moment's  stay  their  fiery  mettle  bring. 

THE  RIDE  THROUGH  THE  PLAINS  OF  DARKNESS. 

With  chariots  were  they  waiting, 
Which  winged  fiends  like  vampires  drew, 
All  marshalled,   and  all  congregating', 
Prepared  to  traverse  through 
The  endless  plains  of  gloom 
And  everlasting  night, 
Which  lay  with  inky  womb 
Between  them  and  the  realms  of  light. 
These  to  pass  in  voyage  laborious 

Were  they  prepared, 
Yet  hoping  to  return  victorious 
From  the  emprise  they  dared. 
Now  were  they  waiting, 
In  full  force  congregating, 

The  advent  of  their  king,  who  now  not  long  delayed, 
And  passing  through  the  companies  arrayed 
Took  place  within  the  grisly  cavalcade. 
Off  flew  the  chariots  which  the  vampires  drew — 

Off  they  flew; 
And  with  wings  outspread 
Went  whirring  through  the  midnight  dead, 
Went   sliding 
And  went  gliding 


THE    RIDE    THROUGH    THE    PLAINS    OF    DARKNESS.  43 

Through  the  gloom, 
Which  like  the  tomb 
Enwrapt  all  Nature  in  its  womb. 
Profoundest  silence  reigned  around. 
Except  the  whirr  of  the  wings,  no  sound  ! 
Save  a  few  muffled  curses, 
As  some  fiend  rehearses 
The  lies  he  last  had  lied, 
To  his  neighbour  in  the  ride. 
But  now  upon  the  ears  of  all 

There  did  arise 
A  noise  that  did  appal — 
The  sudden  buzzing  of  ten  thousand  Hies  ; 

Of  flies  in  legion, 
That  filled  every  region, 
And  spread  in  a  vast  swarm, 
Hideous  and  deform, 
Up  to  the  skies — 

There  they  arose  and  buzzed,  a  pyramid  of  flies  ! 
Then,  turning  to  explain  the  thing, 
They  saw  it  was  their  king, 
Who  as  Beelzebub  was  travestying, 
Beelzebub  the  king  of  flies, 
Of  flies  offensive,   foul,   and  irritating, 
Teasing,   exasperating-, 
Stinging  and  sticking, 
Goading   and   pricking, 
Till  pricks  become  sheer  agonies. 

Flies,  gnats,   and  dragon-flies, 
Hornets  and  wasps  and  yellow-belted  bees, 
Gadflies  with  stings  that  frantically  tease, 
Insects  and  flies  and  humble-bees, 
Beetles  and  bugs  ill-savoured, 
Death  watches  evil  favoured, 
Cockchafers,  spiders,  crickets,  and  with  these 
Storms  of  loathly  lice  and  fleas — 

All  met  and  all  concreted 
Into  a  pyramid,  that  with  repeated 
Swarm  on   swarm  did  upward   rise, 
Huge  as  a  mountain,   to  the  skies. 
As  when  a  swarm  of  bees  do  muster, 

And  in  living  cluster, 
In  which  each  particle  is  palpitating 

And  with  life  pulsating, 

Hang,  like  a  bunch  of  grapes  from  off  a  tree — 
Such  was  the  pyramid  to  see. 
But  so  enormous  was  its  face, 
It  seemed  to  fill  all  space, 
And  be  lost  amid  the  clouds. 
Then  as  the  fiends  around  in  crowds 
Gazed  astonished  and  half  stupefied, 
Their  king  from   mid 


44       THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  II. 

The  pyramid, 
Where  he  was  hid, 
Apologetically  cried  : 

"  Excuse  me,  gentlemen ;  I  did  not  mean 
To  trouble  you  with  any  needless  apparition. 

But  I  was  meditating — 

And  that  will  best  account  for  my  condition." 
Then  was  he  seen 
To  slowly  change, 
Disintegrating, 
Into  the  aspect  strange 
Of  Baal-Peor,  god  of  all  corruption, 
(A  favourite  transfigurement  of  his) 

And  the  dire  change  progressed  without  an  interruption. - 
Straight  into  worms  he  rotted.     The  flies  change ; 
And  by  a  metamorphosis  most  strange 

Their  busy  hive 

Became  a  putrid  mass,  with  maggots  all  alive. 
Maggots  and  worms  in  mountains  moved  and  crawled. 
The  devils  viewed  the  well  known  change,  appalled. 
Their  king  was  now  a  pyramid  infirm 
Of  crawling  vermin,   wriggling  worm, 
All  moving,  heaving,  festering,  feeding 
On  the  corruption  whence  they  were  proceeding, 

Crumbling  in  filth,  but  to  renew 
Their  life  amid  the  filth  from  whence  they  grew. 
All  round  the  monstrous  apparition  blue  flames  played — 

The  light  putrescent 
Of  foul  corruption  incandescent — 
Illumining  with  ghastly  gleam  the  shade. 

As  when  a  corpse,  of  malady  malignant  dying, 
Turns  fast  to  putrefying, 
Yielding  up  its  flesh  to  rottenness, 
To  mouldering  decay  and  putridness, 
Until  it  swims  in  hideous  decomposition  : 

Such  was  the  fearful  apparition, 
So  rotted  Satan  before  their  eyes, 
So  did  he  change  from  flies 
To  foulest  dead  corruption  most  appalling, 
With  maggots,  vermin,  worms,  alive  and  crawling. 
And  as  he  decayed, 
Through  the  shade 
Arose  a  stench  most  horrible  and  fell, 
So  that  his  own  fiends  even  must 

Turn  away  in  dire  disgust 
At  the  intolerable  smell. 
But  he  cheerily 
And  even  merrily 
From  his  mount  of  putrefaction, 

Noticing  their  action, 
Rallied  them  as  on  he  trode  : 
"  Have  no  fear, 


THE    RIDE    THROUGH    THE    PLAINS    OF    DARKNESS.  45 

My  masters,  of  your  old  friend  Baal-Peor, 

Whose  abode 
In  the  lowest  pit  of  hell 
Has  ever  been  distinguished  by  its  smell. 

He's  a  mere  fraction,  to  be  sure,  of  me; 

And  very  soon  you'll  see 
The  worms  will  turn  to  better  things, 

To  serpents  without  stings, 

With  which  we  can  enjoy  ourselves.     I  will  be  Baal — 
A  being  most  indubitably  male. 

And  ye,  your  pleasure  to  increase, 
A  serpent  you  shall  have  apiece, 
As  large  a  one  as  e'er  ye  list. 
How  to  use  it,  well  ye  wist. 
Come,  cease  at  once  these  feelings  of  disgust, 
And  turn  to  thoughts  of  love  and  lust." 
Hereat  arose  from  all  the  fiends  around 

A  shout  of  fierce  delight, 

That  tore  Hell's  concave  black  ;  and  with  its  sound 
Frighted  the  realm  of  Chaos  and  old  Night. 
Straightway  amid  the  shade 
The  chariots  were  slackened,  and  then  stayed  ; 
And  Satan  loudly  bawling 
With  voice  appalling, 
Which  went  pealing  to  illimitable  distance  in  the  dark, 

thus   cried  : 

"  Ho  ye  !  who  at  the  half  way  house  reside, 
My  panders,   pumps,   and  taverners,   whom   I   have  set 

to  dwell 

At  this  the  last  extremity  of  Hell, 
To  cheer  one  on  an  endless  chase 
Through  nigh  immeasurable  space — 
Before  we  plumb 
The  regions  icy  cold 
Of  shivering  darkness  dumb 
And  Chaos  old, 
Which  yet  remain 
Upon  the  endless  plain, 
Bring  forth  the  wine  cup  here  to  cheer  us, 
And  females  to  endear  us, 
Wine  to  bless  us, 
They  to  caress  us, 
To  fire  us 
And  inspire  us, 

To  make  us  merry  in  the  cold,  and  warm, 
That,  flushed  with  lechery, 
And  drunk  with  wine, 
We  thus  may  storm 
By  force  or  treachery 
The  mount  divine, 
And,  gaining  victory  supreme, 
Realise  our  most  radiant  dream. 


46  THE    EPIC    OF    GOD    AND    THE    DEVIL.       PART    II. 

Ho  !  bring  the  women  and  the  wine  !  " 
Thus  as  he  spoke,  there  did  entwine 
Him  from  his  summit  to  the  ground 
Millions  of  serpents,  coiling  him  around ; 
For  he  was  Baal,  the  serpent  god, 

And  at  his  nod 

All  corruption  had  passed  away, 
Leaving  him  glittering  and  gay, 
Sheathed  in  sheaves  of  golden  snakes, 
Whose  flashing  scales  and  sparkling  flakes 
Lighted  up  the  shade, 
As,  him  enlacing, 
Round  about  his  form  they  played. 
Like  some  light  armour  him  encasing, 
So  gleamed  they  golden  in  the  gloom, 
And  with  their  gold  the  darkness  did  illume. 
He  was  the  god  of  youth  and  generation, 

And   'twas  hard  to  say 

Whether  'twas  snake  or  phallus  of  fair  procreation, 
That  thus  in  myriads  did  round  him  play. 
But  he  was  plucking  off  and  flinging 
Them  to  his  legionaries  round, 
Who  caught  the  coiling  serpents  swinging 

Ere  they  fell  to  ground. 

And  the  voice  of  fell  Azazel,  leader  of  all  lust, 
Was  heard  in  importunity  afar  away  : 
"  Bring  out  the  females  for  our  amours  gay. 
Bring  them  out  ye  must 
Forthwith  without  delay. 
Haste  !  for  the  vampire  steeds  are  pawing 
The  turf  of  the  illimitable  plain, 
The  air  with  their  wide  wings  are  sawing, 

As  eager  to  be  off  again. 

And  we  upon  our  journey  bound,  our  spirits  spent  to  rally, 
Are  fain  awhile  with  our  fair  frail  to  dally, 
And  in  their  arms  voluptuously 
Some  hours  of  ecstasy 

To  spend. 
Haste  !  bring  them  forth  ;  and  with  them  bring  the  wine, 

To  lend 
Its  sweet  intoxicant  divine, 

And  to  inflame 

To  wild  lasciviousness  our  frame." 
He  ceased.     And  soon  there  was  a  rustling  sound  ; 
There  was  a  sight 
Amid  the  night 

Of  fluttering  of  garments  white ; 
The  noise  of  screams  and  cries  was  heard  around — 

Till  all  was  drowned 
In  a  very  storm  of  kisses 

And  serpents'  hisses. 
Then  it  seemed  as  they, 


THE    RIDE    THROUGH    THE    PLAINS    OF    DARKNESS.  47 

Be  they  who  they  may, 
Were  handed 
And  bandied 

Unceremoniously  from  hand  to  hand 
Into  the  chariots  that  waiting  stand. 
Crack  !  strikes  the  whip.     And  off  they  flew, 
Forging-  the  dreary  midnight  through. 
And  as  the  grim  procession  oaring  goes, 
Ever  and  anon  amid  the  dark  arose 
Expostulations  and  little  screams, 
Angry  words,  and,  as  it  seems, 
The  noise  of  struggles  now  and  then, 
Like  women  struggling  with  men, 
And  persisting 
In  resisting 
Bold  liberties, 
Rude  importunities. 
And  Satan  himself,  the  Arch  Devil, 

Joining  in  the  revel, 

Cried  (ne'er  in  a  chariot  was  he  bestowed, 
But  like  a  centaur  in  the  midst  he  rode. 
He  had  just  seized  the  fairest  of  them  all, 
A  female  beautiful  and  tall, 
A   lovely   concubine 

Of  shape  divine, 
All  naked  and  white 
In  the  dim  night, 
Save  for  a  veil  of  gauze  that  came 
Wrapping  and  half  revealing  her  shrinking  frame, 
For  full  of  modesty  she  was  and  shame. 

And  with  her  hands  concealed  her  face, 
Resisting  and  rejecting  the  embrace.) 
Then   Satan  cried  unto  his  fiends  around  :   "  Each  libertine 

May  revel  to  the  full  in  sin, 
Each  with  his  mistress  at  his  whim 
And  with  the  serpent  I  have  given  him. 
But  I  take  the  fairest 
And  the  rarest 

To  seduce. 
And  for  my  use, 
Me  rapture  pure  to  give, 
I  have  reserved  a  phallus  most  superlative." 

His  speech  was  greeted 
By  shouts  of  acquiescence  oft  repeated, 
Shrieks  of  demoniac  laughter, 

And  following  after 
Lustful  words  and  phrase  obscene, 
Talk  lascivious  and  unclean. 

And  he  taking 

The  shrinking  woman  in  his  arms, 
His  appetite  slaking 
On  her  charms, 


48       THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  II. 

Commenced  to  wind  around  her, 
So  that  it  did  confound  her, 
His  mighty  serpent  slippery  and  sliding. 
O'er  all  her  frame  'twas  slipping  and  'twas  gliding; 
Between  her  marble  thighs 

It  did  arise; 
Her  limber  waist  around 

It  coiled,  it  wound  ; 
It  kissed,   it  stole,   it  pressed 

Her  marble   swelling  chest, 
And  nestled  in  her  breast, 
Till  by  its  persistence 
It  o'ercame  all  resistance  ; 
And  her  coyness 

Became  desire, 
Her  shyness 

Changed  to  fire. 
She  accepted  and  expected 
What  at  first  she  had  rejected ; 
And  winding  round  him  her  snowy  arms, 
Yielding  to  him   all  her  charms, 
With  her  kiss  she  was  glued 

To  his  face, 
Naked  and  nude 
In  his  embrace, 
Welcoming  his  speeches  rude, 
Listening  without  fear, 

Shameless  and  serene, 
While  he  poured  into  her  ear 
His  infamies  obscene. 
Then  Satan  cried  :  "  What  ho  !  I  feel 

For  all  the  world  like  Belial. 
And  in  a  chariot  would  I  fain  bestow 
Myself  and  my   sweet  concubine, 
And  so  awhile  would  through  the  midnight  go. 
Fain  would  I  at  my  ease  recline, 

Drinking   wine, 

Forgetting  all  but  her  who  in  my  arms 
Yields  me  the  banquet  of  her  charms — 

A  banquet  heightened  by  the  fire 
Of  ruddy  wine  to  kindle  fierce  desire." 
So  in  a  chariot  he  took  his  seat. 
And  with  paces  fleet 

Off  flew  the  vampires  through  the  night, 
Off  fled  the  grisly  cavalcade, 
And  its  interminable  journey  made 
Through  those  wide  steppes  of  darkness  and  of  doom, 

Eternal  silence  and  eternal  gloom, 
Which  bathed  the  whole  horizon  round. 

Raw  the  chill  air,  nor  any  sound 
Save  the  oaring  of  the  vampires'  wings, 
And  the  whistle  that  the  chill  breeze  brings. 


THE    RIDE    THROUGH    THE    PLAINS    OF    DARKNESS.  49 

But  now  the  silence  of  the  night 

Was  broken  quite 
By  the  roar  of  songs  obscene 

And  ribaldries  unclean, 
Curses  and  imprecations, 
Diabolic  cachinnations. 
And  as  the  wine  cup  circulated  tingling 
There  came  with  songs  and  bawdries  intermingling 

Drunken  oaths  and  maudlin  utterings, 
Blasphemies  relapsing  into  stutterings, 
Ravings,   and  demoniac  riot — 
Such  were  the  sounds  disturbed  the  quiet 
Of  the  plains  of  everlasting  gloom, 
Till  now  as  still  and  silent  as  the  tomb. 
On  they  were  flying  in  their  chariots  at  post  haste. 
The  vampires'   wings  were  like   the   sails, 
Which  the  Chineses  spread  to  catch  the  gales 
And  waft  their  cany  waggons  o'er  the  waste, 
The  barren  waste  of  Sericane, 

Wild,  bleak  and  dread. 

Yet  far  more  wild  and  bleak  was  that  wild  plain 
Through  whose  perpetual  gloominess  they  sped- 
Then  Satan  from  his  chariot,  drinking, 
And  with  his  bats'  eyes  blinking 
Through  the  eternal  shade, 
Cried  :    "  Drink  on  merrily, 

Sheep  of  my  fold. 
Warm   yourselves   cheerily 
Against  th'  engulfing  cold. 
Bleak  blows  the  air, 
The  blast  is  chill. 
Drink,   swill,   and  swear, 
Swear,  drink,    and  swill. 
Sure  there's  no  pleasure  like  to  cursing, 

Drinking   and   cursing, 
When  you  are  nursing 
A  slip  of  womanhood  upon  your  knee, 
Whom  you  have  dragged  from  innocence 

Down  to  depravity. 
Wine  intoxicates  your  sense, 
Love  thrills  you, 
Triumph   fills   you. 
Her  unresisting  suavity 
Is  too  much  for  your  gravity. 
And  you  drink,  drink,   drink 
Till  you  are  drunk,   drunk,   drunk, 
And  you  think,   think,   think, 
That  the  maiden  chaste  and  fair, 
Whom  you've  ruined  with   such  care, 
Is  now  a  punk,  punk,  punk." 

Hereat  the  devils  all 
Through  the  night  funereal 


50  THE    EPIC    OF    GOD    AND    THE    DEVIL.       PART    II. 

Joined  in  the  chorus 
With  song"  uproarious. 
And  with  each  in  the  night 
There  was  a  marble  figure  white, 
Clinging  closely  for  protection, 
Weeping  wildly  at  rejection. 
But  with  surfeiting  of  lust 
Back  were  they  thrust, 
Oft  ruthless  in  the  dust. 
And  the  chariots  sped  on 
With  the  yell  of  drinking  song, 
And   blasphemies   uncounted, 

As  the  wine  mounted 
And  lent  its  wrild  intoxication 
To  fire  the  powers  of  imprecation. 

Then  Satan,  staggering  to  his  feet, 
Stepped  from  the  chariot  fleet ; 
And  accompanied  the  cortege 
In  drunken  orgy  and  rampage. 

As  should  a  mountain,  racked  with  dire  convulsion's  throe, 
Etna  or  St.  Pelee,  rock  wildly  to  and  fro, 
Moved  by  the  fire  within,  and,  as  'twould  heel 
From  cloudy  summit  over,   sway  and  reel — 
Then  should  it  romp  in  monstrous  frolic  o'er 
Th'  affrighted  earth,  which  quakes  with  timorous  roar  : 
So  Satan  reeled  and  rolled  upon  the  plain, 
Like  some  huge  hill  let  loose  to  reel  amain. 
Ramping  in  orgy  unrestrained  he  went, 
His  head  now  buried  in  the  firmament, 
Now  striking  with  colliding  crash  the  ground, 
His  base  gyrating  in  mad  circles  round. 
Shapeless  he  was,  amorphous,  a  mere  mound 

Of  formless  form,  to  all  shapes  crumbling, 
As  he  went  stumbling, 
Tripping  and  heeling, 
Rolling  and  reeling, 

All  through  the  wilderness  toppling  and  tumbling. 
Under  such  baneful  influence  the  whole  rout 
Emptied  its  dense  arrays  in  chaos  out. 
The  chariots  knew  not  their  order  more. 
East,  west,  south,  north,  bewildered,  out  they  bore. 
At  random  the  huge  vampires  flew. 
Hither  and  thither  the  cars  they  drew 
In  mob  confused  the  dim  air  through. 
The  drivers  were  bewildered,  and  straight  fell 
To  quarrel  and  to  mutiny  pell-mell. 
All  the  foul  discord  reigned  of  lowest  Hell. 
He  in  the  midst,  Chaos,  the  Anarch  old, 
In  wreck  and  chaos  uncouthly  rolled. 

Now  would  the  total  host 
Have  gone  to  irredeemable  disorder, 
In  wreck  and  chaos  lost, 


THE    RIDE    THROUGH    THE    PLAINS    OF    DARKNESS.  5! 

And  ne'er  have  reached  the  heavenly  border, 
Whereto  with  all  their  leg-ions  they  were  bound, 
Had  they  not  seen 
From  the  concourse  round 
Satan  in  their  midst,  as  on  he  staggered, 
Grow  calmer  and  more  orderly  of  mien ; 
His  shapeless  shape,  portion  by  portion, 
Mould  itself  into  proportion  ; 

His  wayward   elements 
Melt  into  lineaments, 
White  and  haggard  ; 

Until  with  bated  breath 
They  saw  him  on  a  pale  horse,  like  Death, 

Determinedly    riding, 
The  whole  host  guiding. 
His  teeth  were  set, 
His  brows  were  knit, 
His  face  beneath  the  helmet  he  had  on 
Was  like  a  grinning  skeleton. 
Thus  rode  he  on  undaunted  on  his  way. 

They  followed,  powerless  to  disobey. 
So  went  they  on  for  many  a  weary  mile, 
All  through  the  dark  and   suffocating  gloom. 
Nought  festive  and  nought  gay  them  now  beguile. 
Stern  are  they  as  their  leader,  who  like  doom 
Did  at  their  head  in  pomp  funereal  loom. 
He  knew,  none  else,  the  way  that  they  should  take 
Through  that  dark  world,  which  did  all  scene  entomb. 
And  to  his  goal  with  never  a  mistake, 
Like  Fate  inflexible,  his  fatal  way  did  make. 
'Twas  now  some  fiends  advancing  in  the  van 
Did  cry  aloud  that  they  beheld  a  light, 
Which  like  a  thread  of  gold  distinctly  ran 
Sheer  o'er  the  murky  curtain  of  the  night. 
All  turned  to  look,  enraptured  at  the  sight  ; 
And  Satan  cried  aloud,  "  There  lies  our  goal  ! 
Hasten  we  on,  with  speed  renewed,  our  flight  ! 
There  we  may  breach  the  bastion,  and  console 
Ourselves  with  pillage,  riot,  glut  without  control." 
Shouts  rend  the  welkin  at  the  prospect  gay, 
Up  surged  in  mass  the  streaming  multitude. 
Oft"  flew  the  winged  chariots  on  their  way, 
Cleaving  the  darkened  air  with  strength  renewed. 
So  pressed  they  on  with  impious  thoughts  imbued, 
Till  the  whole  force  before  the  bastion  stand, 
WThile  surging  come  behind  to  where  these  stood 
From  vast  infinity  band  after  band, 
From  one  long  train  which   stretched   sheer  through   the 

darkened  land. 

At  last  all  came.  And  Satan  spoke  aloud — 
His  face  was  haggard,  grey  his  scanty  hair, 
His  cheeks  with  myriads  of  wrinkles  ploughed. 


52       THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  II. 

His  countenance  that  ravaged  look  did  wear, 
Which  witnessed  him  the  prey  of  ceaseless  care. 
Yet  spake  he  then  as  one  who  all  would  dare ; 
Filled  with  the  force  and  courage  of  despair, 
And  raging  recklessness  beyond  compare. 
He  spoke,  and  every  word  which  met  the  ear 
Was  dreadful  blasphemy  and  execration  sheer. 

His  words  were  to  this  purport  :  "  Here  we  stand. 
Before  us  is  the  bastion,  and  within 
Shines,  gleams  and  glows  the  fair  and  heavenly  land 
Of  God  and  all  his  angels,  void  of  sin, 
Which  'tis  our  aim  to  conquer  and  to  win — 
To  storm,  by  straight  assault,  so  my  voice  goes. 
Wherefore  't  remains  to  plan  how  to  begin, 
That  by  surprise  we  may  disarm  our  foes, 
,  And  grappling  unprepared  in  deadly  fight  may  close. 
"  Myself  the  leader,  all  will  follow  me, 
Do  as  I  do,  my  actions  imitate. 
You,   Semiaxas,  act  auxiliar 
To  me.     Throughout  the  fray  be  my  familiar. 
You,  Atarcuph,   whom  heaven  Saturn  calls, 
And  fears  your  scythe  and  hour-glass  in  its  walls, 
Lead  the  reserves.     Be  cool,  deliberate. 
Tarry  apart  inactive.      My  sign  wait, 
And  move  not  till  the  crisis  of  the  fray. 
So  mayest  thou  thus  decide  the  fortune  of  the  day. 
All  ye  the  rest,  Mozazor,  Rayabon, 
Baradiel,  Barakiel,  Rameel, 
Azalcel,  Sarinas,  Anajimon, 
Samael,    Thausael,    and   Matareel, 

Show  your  good  strength,  and  with  your  goblin  legions 
Burst  in,  profane,  spoil  the  celestial  regions, 
Drag  down  the  terraces,  sack,  pillage,  maim  ! 
Rapine  and  outrage  !     Let  these  be  your  aim." 
Thus  spoke  he,  waxing  loud  with  execrations 
And  every  moment  louder  to  the  ear, 
Until  at  last  his  dreadful  imprecations 
Became  so  terrible  and  fell  to  hear, 
That  e'en  the  devils  bid  him  to  be  still, 
If  for  no  other  cause,  at  least  for  fear 
That  they  within  might  opportunely  hear, 
And  know  thus  that  a  foe  without  in  force  was  near. 
Then  did  he  grow  convulsed  with  furious  passion  ; 

From  one  convulsion  to  another  fell, 
In  execrable  fashion, 

As  if  possessed  with  all  the  pains  of  hell. 


THE    ASSAULT    ON    THE    SEVENTY    THOUSAND    HEAVENS.        53 

THE  ASSAULT  ON   THE   SEVENTY   THOUSAND 
HEAVENS. 

Then  Atarcuph  the  old  said,  "  Yea  ! 
Your  plan  is  good — that  will  I  not  gainsay. 
But  first  instruct  us  how  we  may  begin. 
This  bastion  is  of  triple  adamant  before  us, 
And  like  a  mountain  loometh  o'er  us. 
How  may  we  entrance  win? 
Through  such  a  barrier  how  get  in?  " 
Then  Satan  cried,   "  Leave  that  to  me. 
Lo  !  I  will  give  you  passage  free, 
Passage  to  all,  if  ye  are  ready. 
Say  are  ye  ready? 
Stand  ye  steady  ? 
And  are  ye  nerved  to  follow  me?  " 

Then  all  around 

With  confused  and  muttered  sound 
Cried,  they  were  ready, 
They   stood   steady 
And  him  would  follow  to  eternity. 

Then  he 

Foaming  with   passion 
Up  to  the  bastion  went, 
And  digging  in  in  furious  fashion 
Into  the  rent 
His  fingers  bent, 
With   face  blenched 
And  hands  clenched, 
The  adamant  in  twain  he  wrenched. 
With  a  crack  like  thunder 
From  base  to  crest  the  bastion  yawned  asunder, 

Exposing  all  it  had  concealed — 

And  the  whole  Seventy  Thousand  Heavens  lay  revealed, 
In    terrace   upon   terrace   rising 

Till  lost  to  sight, 

With  starry  battlements  of  starry  light, 
All  spangled  and  all  sparkling 
With  diamonds  aglimmer, 
All  scintillating  with  a  shimmer 
Of  trembling  lustres  bright. 
Each  terrace  was  a  heaven 

Of  courts  and  palaces, 
And    radiant   firmaments, 

And  crystal  seas, 

And  golden  gates  where  nought  profane  had  trod. 
And  in  the  highest  heaven  was  the  throne  of  God. 

So  stood  Satan  and  his  legions 
Of  fiends  and  goblins,  ghouls  and  satyrs,   without  fear 

In  the  celestial  regions 
Before  the  Seventy  Thousand  Heavens  rising  tier  on  tier. 


54       1HE  EPJC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  II. 

But    'twas   a   moment   only ; 
For  next  instant  sounded 
From  every  terrace,   every  heaven, 
The  trumpets  of  the  cherubims  astounded. 
Sheer  up  the  pyramid  of  heavens 
The  fanfare  is  repeated, 
And  by  the  heavens  above 
With  farther  fanfares  greeted, 

Giving-  the  alarm 
Of  outrage  and  harm, 
And   summoning-  unto  the  fight 
The  angelic  hosts  of  light. 
At  once  Satan  and  all  his  fiends  commence 
Scaling  the  terraces  in  legions  dense. 
Swarming  upon  them,   like  a   flight 
Of  locusts  black  as  night, 
Seizing  the  buttresses  and  jutting  frets, 
And  clambering  up  the  parapets. 
And  he  who  is  Apollyon, 
Who  is  Ahriman, 
Who  is  Abaddon,  who  is  Lucifer, 
Who  is  Beelzebub,  who  is  Siva  sinister, 
Who  is  Arimanes,  who  is  Asmodeus, 

Who  is  Eblis,  Hades,  Erebus, 
The  King  of  Terrors,  the  Prince  of  Evil, 
The  King  of  Hell,  Satan,  th'  incarnate  Devil, 

Led  them  on  the  storm, 
In  shape  portentous  and  deform. 

Upon  him  sat 
The  figure  hideous  and  dread 

Of  a  gigantic  bat, 
With  huge  black  wings  outspread, 
In   stature   stupendous, 
In  aspect  most  tremendous. 

Like  a  giant  bat,  with  black  wings  wide  unpent. 
Up  and  up  he  went 
Battlement   after  battlement ; 
And  terrace  after  terrace  trod, 
From  heaven  unto  heaven,   seeking  God. 
In  vain  the  angels 
The  terraces  defending 
Push  out  their  pointed  spears 

At  him  ascending. 

Their  fieriest  assaults  are  unavailing, 
As  up  and  up  he  steadily  went  scaling, 
In    victorious    escalade 
Undaunted,  unafraid. 
His  myriads  of  fiends  behind 
After  him  swarmed. 
With  courage  blind 
The  heavens  they  stormed, 
Seizing  the  battlements, 


THE    ASSAULT    ON    THE    SEVENTY    THOUSAND    HEAVENS.        55 

And  tearing  down 
The  crystal  coping's  of  the  celestial  town, 

Breaching  the  walls 
And  pouring  through  the  apertures, 

Entering  through  loopholes 
And  through  embrasures, 

Carrying  the  courts,  and  battering  the  gates. 
Thus  heaven  after  heaven  they  gained, 

While  succour  waits. 
Into  the  holy  sanctuaries  they  burst, 

Plundering   all, 
Rifling,  destroying,   pillaging 

In   furious  brawl ; 
Then  out  would  rush 
With  new  impetuous  rage, 
For  higher  heavens  and  richer  glut 

Their  lust  t'  assuage. 

Now  were  the  angels  and  archangels  out, 
Captains  of  hosts  upon  each  fortified  redoubt. 
Up  poured  the  fiends  in  overwhelming  millions, 
Bent  to  possess  the  glittering  pavilions, 
Still  forcing  way  with  desperate  persistence. 
Heaven    after    heaven    they    gained,    and    crushed 

resistance. 

Satan   himself   was   nigh 
Now  halfway  up  the  sky. 

Nay  more — for  sixty  thousand  heavens  he  had  passed, 
And  in  his  grasp  already  seemed   the  last. 
Now  did  his  fiends  below, 
Who  hard  behind  him  pour, 
Hear  from  the  heights  above 
His    boisterous    roar — 
His   roar  of   triumph 
At  the  sight  appearing 
Of  the  last  Seventieth  Thousandth  heaven,  . 

Which  he  was  nearing-. 
This  lent  new  courage  to  their  escalade, 
This  made  the  timorous  no  more  afraid, 
This  made  the  bold  perform  new  prodigies. 
Triumph  !  was  the  cry. 
Victory   was   nigh. 

Now  was  the  fearful  battle  at  its  height. 
Now  waxed  the  climax  of  the  fight. 

For  what  with  the  crashing 
Of  the  towers  that  fell  to  ground, 

The  grinding  and  smashing 
Of  the  crystal  round, 

The  battlements  down  dashing 
In  ruins  prone  that  fell, 

The  armour's  clang  and  clashing 
In  every  citadel, 

The  walls  cracking 


0       THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  II. 

With    thunderous    reports, 

The  noisy  sacking 
Of  the  celestial  courts, 

The  devils'  yells  to  see  their  foes  defeated, 
With  fiercer. yells  all  up  the  sky  repeated, 
The  desperate  battering 
At  the  gates  of  gold, 
In  hubbub  clattering 
Sixty  thousand  fold, 
The  buttresses  shaking, 
The  bastions  quaking, 

The  blows  shattering 
The  bulwarks  that  still  hold, 
All  mixed  with  the  roar  of  the  fight 

Now  at  its  height — 
Such  din,  such  deafening  noise 

Arose,   which   never  ceases, 

It  seemed  as  if  the  universe  were  going  to  pieces. 
And  at  the  raging  uproar 

With  which  the  world  was  riven, 

God  trembled  in  his  last  and  SeventiethThousandth  Heaven. 
He  in  celestial  repose  and  calm 
Full  well  opined  what  strange  assault  befell ; 
Howy  holy  Heaven's  beatitude  and  balm 
Was  broken  in  upon  by  fiends  of  hell. 
Yet  knew  he  not  they  had  progressed  so  well, 
Till  the  last  crash  the  heavens'  vault  came  rending. 
And  looking  o'er  his  pearly  citadel, 
Satan  he  saw,  his  toilsome  journey  ending-, 
The  last  few  terraces  of  captured  heaven  ascending. 
Satan  and  God  each  other  recognised. 
And  Satan  cried  with  blasphemy  supreme  : 
"  Hither  I  come,  as  I  have  thee  advised, 
To  wrest  by  battle  what  my  own  I  deem. 
Thy  empire  is  a  phantom  and  a  dream. 
Mine  is  the  kingdom,  mine  is  Heaven's  throne. 
Myself  the  King  of  Heaven  I  esteem, 
Not  thee,  who  newly  to  a  king  hast  grown. 
Long  ere  thou  wert  begotten,  did  I  Heaven  own. 
"  Wherefore  yield  up  what  to  thee  not  pertains. 
Off  from  thy  throne,  usurper  !     Let  Heav'n  hear. 
That  its  right  king  and  lawful  sovereign  reigns." 
Thus  cried  he  drawing  nearer  and  more  near, 
With  strides  stupendous  scaling  tier  on  tier, 
Till,  the  last  terrace  escaladed  so, 
He  stept  unconquerable,  without  fear, 
On  to  the  pearly  pinnacle  aglow 

Of  all  the  seventy  thousand  heavens  ranged  below. 
Here  God,  enwreathed  in  cherubims  and  light, 
Sat  throned  on  emerald  'mid  calm  profound. 
Satan  undazzled,  gloomy  as  the  night, 
Pushed  through  the  glittering  circle  him  around, 


THE    ASSAULT    ON    THE    SEVENTY    THOUSAND    HEAVENS.        57 

And  in  his  arms  the  King-  of  Heaven  he  wound. 
Forthwith  the  twain  in  fearful  wrestle  wheeled. 
The  angels  shrieked  ;  such  sight  did  them  confound. 
Such  efforts  do  they  make,  each  ne'er  to  yield, 

That  the  whole  pyramid  of  heavens  swayed  and  reeled. 
They  on  the  peak  to  all  the  hosts  below 
In  figures  huge  gigantically  loom, 
Each  labouring  the  other  down  to  throw 
The  shelving  precipice  sheer  to  his  doom. 
All  from  the  summit  fled,  and  left  full  room 
For  such  a  combat ;  and  the  twain  alone 
Wrestled  and  reeled  in  lightning  and  in  gloom. 
Monstrous,  portentous,  were  their  figures  shown, 

And  their  huge  shadows   sheer  o'er  heaven's  vault  were 

thrown. 

The  hosts  below  paused  in  amazement  lost 
At  such  tremendous  scene  unparalleled. 
But  soon  they  were  in  new  convulsions  tossed, 
Such  ardour  and  such  fury  them  impelled. 
They  rushed  to  fray  afresh  with  zeal  unquelled. 
And  as  each  thought  their  champion  in  the  clouds 
Victorious,  their  hopes  of  triumph  swelled, 
Fiercer  the  fight  they  plied  with  cries  aloud, 

Ang-els  and  devils  mixed  in  dense  and  tossing  crowd. 
Meanwhile  upon  the  top  Satan  and  God 
Wrestled  and  reeled  and  rocked  and  closed  and  clung. 
The  platform  broad  unsteadily  they  trod. 
Oft  at  the  edge  right  over  it  they  hung, 
As  if  next  instant  down  they  would  be  flung 
The  Seventy  Thousand  Heavens'  yawning  face. 
In  wrestle  dire  they  writhed  and  wrenched  and  wrung, 
Till  Satan  marked  how  God  a  breathing-space 

Showed  symptoms  of  fatigue  in  his  close-locked  embrace. 
With  joy  he  marked  it,  and  the  hour  divining 
When  this  tremendous  conflict  should  have  close, 
With  fiercer  force  his  ample  arms  entwining 
Cried  to  the  myriads  of  swarming  foes — 
"  Haste,  marshal  up  your  powers,  and  God  enclose  ! 
Saturn,  whom  we  call  Atarcuph,  draw  near. 
Now  it  is  time  to  break  your  long-  repose. 
Haste  !  Bring  your  hosts  and  scythe  and  hour-glass  near, 

And  this  base  empire's  thread  of  life  for  ever  shear." 
Up  swarming  with  his  hosts  old  Saturn  came, 
Brandishing  scythe  and  hour-glass.     Him  God  saw, 
And  tremors  coursed  through  his  celestial  frame 
At  end  impending  to  his  realm  and  law, 
The  more  that  Satan's  fearful  strength,  with  awe 
He  felt  was  stronger  as  his  own  strength  failed. 
Up  to  the  spot  the  angel  cohorts  draw, 
Amazed  to  see  their  monarch  thus  assailed  ; 

And  losing  heart  in  fell  disorder  shrieked  and  wailed. 
Then  Satan  bracing  up  his  powers,  to  nerve 


58  THE    EPIC    OF    GOD    AND    THE    DEVIL.        PART    II. 

Himself  to  final  triumph,   with  a  roar 

Cried  aloud  :  "  If  I  can  but  preserve 

My  shape  heroic  for  few  moments  more, 

Heav'n  and  Heav'n's  throne  are  mine  for  evermore." 

He  spoke,  and  pressed  the  fray  with  zeal  renewed, 

Eager  to  have  the  dreadful  combat  o'er, 

And  crush  for  ever  in  his  grapple  rude 

His  foe,  wrhose  swiftly  failing-  force  with  joy  he  viewed. 
All  his  wild  followers  shouted  Victory  ! 
But  suddenly  with  awe  and  stupefaction 
They  saw  him  changing-  unaccountably 
Into  a  mass  of  worms  and  putrefaction, 
Which  loosed  his  limbs  and  paralysed  his  action. 
The  foul  corruption  o'er  his  frame  made  way, 
And  swimming,   sweltering  to  his  distraction, 
Left  him  a  monument  to  there  survey 

Shapeless,  of  fell  corruption,  filth  and  foul  decay. 

THE   AGONY   OF   GOD. 

With  yells  the  devils  fled, 
Seized  with  sudden  dread 
At  such  a  sight,  at  such  defeat, 
When  victory  was  nigh  complete. 
The  angel  cohorts  mustering, 
In  closer  levies  clustering, 
With  courage  new 
Their  foes  pursue, 
And  desperate  the  battle  grew — 
One  side  endeavouring  to  hold 
Until  their  champion  his  shape  renews, 
The  others  bent  with  courage  bold 
The  favourable  hour  to  use, 
And  strike  confusion  in  their  foes. 
So  fearful  fight  arose. 
In  crowds  they  rushed, 
In  myriads  crushed, 
To  join  the  fatal  fray 
And  furious  me'le'e. 
So  stormy  fight  went  raging, 

Each  side  in  total  force  with  desperate  zeal  engaging. 
But  over  the  tossing  host 
Floated  the  Holy  Ghost, 

Like  radiant  rainbow  spreading  his  pavilion, 
All  shimmering  with  a  hue 
Of  amethyst  and  blue, 
And  flushing  military  bright  vermilion. 
At  this  so  kindly  sign 
Of  influence  divine 

The  scattered  angels  into  rally  blended. 
Then  tempests  shook  the  world, 
And  in  a  storm  unfurled 


THE    AGONY    OF    GOD.  59 

The  Son  amid  a  whirlwind  dense  descended. 
Darkness  and  clouds  were  spread 
O'er  all  the  fight  o'erhead. 

Confusion  reigned  and  measureless  obstruction. 
Mid  the  involving  night 
None  knew,   none  saw  aright. 

Meanwhile  the  twin  celestials  wrought  destruction. 
But  on  the  platform  broad 
Of  highest  Heaven,  God 
Lay  in  an  agony,  like  death  eternal, 
By  fell  fatigue  and  numb 
O'ermastered,  overcome, 
Annihilated  nigh  by  force  infernal. 
His  adversary  dire 
Not  equally  did  tire, 

But  was  destroyed  to  his  immense  distraction — 
Changing  to  putrid  vile 
Foul  filth  that  did  defile, 

Till  reft  of  power  of  motion  and  of  action. 
Then  with  a  fearful  yell 
Incontinent  he  fell 

Right  through  the  storming  fight  that  raged  beneath  him, 
Through  smoke  and  storm  and  fight 
Passing  in  headlong  flight 
Unto  the  hell  that  waited  to  enwreath  him. 
The  angel  armies  strong 
Triumphant   rushed   along. 

But  while  they  conquered  and  their  foemen  trembled, 
'Mid  ruined  heavens  around 
Without  a  stir  or  sound 
God  lay  in  agony  that  death  resembled. 


60       THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  III. 


PART  III. 

THE  THEOGONY, 
OR  THE  GENEALOGY  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL, 


Deep  in  the  night  of  Chaos  was  God  born. 

Satan  was  Chaos,  Matter,  Darkness  dead, 

Eternal  Dark,  where  never  came  a  morn, 

Nor  any  rosy  sunbeams  overhead. 

Life,  light,  and  lovely  being — all  were  fled. 

Being  was  not,  till  God  had  come  to  birth. 

Form  had  no  symmetry,  light  was  not  shed. 

But  when  He  came,  then  came  all  things  of  worth. 
Of  light,  of  form,  of  being,  there  was  then  no  dearth. 

In  Chaos'  deepest  midnight  came  a  ray, 

A  thin  grey  streak  amid  th'  engulfing  gloom. 

And  that  was  God— that  filmy  beam  of  grey,- 

Which  'mid  the  darkness  muffled  as  the  tomb 

Did  first  the  pitchy  element  illume. 

And  gradually  growing  as  it  crept, 

It  found  continually  still  more  room. 

Amid  the  darkness  that  around  it  slept 
God  was  the  first  grey  ray  that  into  being  leapt. 

The  Devil  nursed  it  to  his  own  destruction, 

Rocking  the  lovely  ray  in  clouds  of  black, 

Which,   like  a  cradle  of  a  weird  construction, 

Or  like  vast  nursing  arms  spread   'mid  the  rack, 

Screened  the  young  beam  from  deepening  gloom's  attack. 

Thus  Satan  fondly  the  young  daybeam  nursed, 

And  dandled  to  his  own  o'erthrow,  alack  ! 

The  doomed  destroyer  of  his  race  accursed 
And  all  his  goblin  brood  amid  the  gloom  immersed. 

For  little  and  by  little  the  young  beam 

Began  to  spread  its  radiance  through  the  sky — 

To  lengthen  to  a  shaft  of  golden  gleam, 

To  broaden  to  a  band  of  light  on  high, 

To  brighten  and  to  grow  continually, 

Till  to  a  belt  of  glittering  light  it  grew. 

Then  other  rays  break  forth  its  station  nigh, 

And  other  radiant  streaks  of  dazzling  hue 
The  lovely  light  it  pours  with  other  rays  renew. 

Satan  and  all  his  fiends  looked  on  surprised 

At  such  a  sight,  so  lovely  and  so  new. 

In  fascination  held,  thev  ne'er  surmised 


THE  THEOGONY,  OR  GENEALOGY  OK  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.  6l 

That  this  young  galaxy  of  golden  hue 
Would  all  their  empire  and  their  realm  undo. 
Wherefore  they  looked,   in  peerless  pleasure  lost, 
(Alack  !  the  sight  they  evermore  did  rue) 
And  watched  how  cloud  on  cloud  aside  it  tossed, 
And  the  whole  spacious  East  with  bars  of  light  it  crossed. 
Gold  was  the  ray.     Then  other  colours  came, 
The  blue,  the  red,  the  fawn,  the  radiant  rose, 
A  thousand  tints  of  colour  and  of  name — 
Excelling  hues  !  whose  mingling  mixture  flows 
Into  a  glittering  flood  that  ceaseless  grows, 
Till  it  o'erspreads  one  tract  of  ancient  Night 
\Vith  a  mysterious  thing  which  no  one  knows, 
Which  all  beholders  witched  and  dazzled  quite — 
And  that  was  heaven-sent  celestial  lovely  Light. 
On,  on  it  spread,  annexing  tract  on  tract, 
Region  on  region,  endless  space  on  space, 
Beating  the  black  funereal  gloom  aback, 
And  raining  gold  and  silver  in  its  place, 
W7hose  showering  spangles  with  their  sheen  erase 
The  thick  and  murky  elements  of  shade, 

Until  at  length  one  half  of  heaven's  face 
With  lovely  light  and  radiance  was  arrayed. 
So  far  it  spread,  the  lovely  beam — but  there  it  stayed. 
Too  late  the  fiends  grew  jealous  of  the  light, 

Which  half  the  world  had  conquered,  and  possessed 

Divided  reign  with  Chaos  and  old  Night. 

Too  late  it  was  their  lost  domain  to  wrest 

From  holy  light,  wrhich  where  it  lightened  blessed. 

Only  their  grim  reflections  they  saw  cast, 

Their  goblin  shadows  stretched  from  east  to  west ; 

And  from  their  shapes,  which  ugliness  did  blast, 
They  knew  and  owned  themselves  devils  and  fiends  at  last. 

Satan  himself,  as  monstrous  as  the  sky, 

Beheld  his  foul  reflection  with  dismay. 

Ne'er  had  he  guessed  himself  unto  the  eye 

So  ugly  and  so  foul  until  that  day. 

Confusion  covered  him  and  sore  dismay, 

The  more  that  he  beheld  his  comrades  near, 

At  the  foul  lineaments  he  did  display 

Exchanging  looks  of  insult  and  of  sneer, 
And  greeting  his  fell  shape  with  mocking  jibe  and  jeer. 

Smit  with  exasperation  at  the  thought 

That  aught  could  minish  or  demean  his  power, 

Satan  arose,   resolved  to  bring  to  naught 

And  crush  this  new  creation  of  an  hour 

With  one  mere  act  of  his  almighty  power. 

Straightway  incensed  towards  the  light  he  went. 

But  endless  distance  'twixt  them  seemed  to  lower. 

Baffled  and  baulked  he  was  in  his  intent 
To  reach  the  glittering  goal  on  which  his  heart  was  bent. 

In  vain  he  sought  to  reach,  to  beat  the  ray. 


62  THE    EPIC    OF    GOD    AND    THE    DEVIL.       PART    III. 

His  idle  blows  fell  on  the  empty  air. 

Meanwhile  he  heard  the  jeering  far-away 

Laughter  of  all  his  fiends  assembled  there, 

Who  watched  with  mirth  his  efforts  and  despair. 

And  from  the  heavens  came  a  trumpet  cry, 

Which  rang  re-echoed  through  the  silent  air — 

"  Jehovah  !  Young  Jehovah  !  He  is  nigh. 
He  comes  with  light  and  joy  the  world  to  gratify." 

The  Devil  heard,  and  knew  that  Light  indeed 

Was  as  himself  a  person  and  a  God, 

Who  to  his  throne  was  destined  to  succeed, 

And  curb  his  furious  reign  with  iron  rod. 

A  rival  now  he  had,  who  heaven  trod, 

Of  all  things  best,  as  he  of  all  things  worst — 

Jehovah  !  Young  Jehovah  !  fellow  God  ! 

The  doomed  destroyer  of  his  race  accursed 
And  all  his  goblin  brood  amid  the  gloom  immersed. 

Gnashing  his  teeth  with  fury  and  with  spleen, 

Satan  yelled  dire  defiance  to  his  foe. 

But  the  calm  light  beamed  on,  undimmed,   serene. 

And  he,  baulked,  baffled,  knew  not  where  to  go, 

Which  way  his  devilish  assaults  to  throw, 

So  as  to  reach  that  fountain  pure  and  bright. 

At  last,  ashamed  of  hesitation  slow, 

He  harked  around  him  all  his  hosts  of  night, 
And  swept  in  full  tornado  to  the  heavenly  height. 

But  where  they  mounted,   darkness  followed  them. 

Ever  'twas  dark  where  they  and  Satan  were. 

They  ne'er  could  rid  by  any  stratagem 

The  thick,  opaque,  and  dusky-folding  air, 

Which  them  o'ershadowed  wheresoe'er  they  fare, 

Sometimes  enclosing  them  in  total  gloom, 

But  sometimes  rifted,  and  to  their  despair 

Showing  at  endless  distance,  where't  did  loom, 
The  dazzling  home  of  light  which  did  the  heaven  illume. 

Further  and  further,  and  not  near  and  nearer, 

Each  hour  they  seemed  to  further  float  away 

From  the  bright  space,  which  clearer  now  and  clearer 

Disseminated  far  its  golden  ray. 

They   felt  themselves  more  hopelessly   astray 

Each  moment  that  their  dusky  wings  they  fanned. 

Indeed  the  spot  was  not  for  things  like  they. 

No  lot  had  they  in  that  celestial  land, 
Whose  brightness  dazzled  and  destroyed  their  robber  band. 

Too  bright  the  light  for  their  bats'  eyes  to  bear ; 

Wherefore  still  far  and  further  off  they  fare 

In  foul  bewilderment  and  dull  despair, 

Flying  on  random  road,  they  knew  not  where. 

Satan  was  unprepared  for  such  a  flight  : 

In  might  audacious,  he  would  all  things  dare, 

But  knew  not  how  to  guide  his  legions  right 
'Mid  shores  of  holiest  purity  and  matchless  light. 


THE  THEOGONY,  OR  GENEALOGY  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.  63, 

Wherefore  their  plight  grew  evermore  the  worse. 

Mutiny  rose  amid  the  robber  band. 

Oaths,  imprecations  raged,  and  curse  on  curse 

Arose  uproarious  on  every  hand. 

Some  were  for  one  way  ;  some  another  planned. 

At  length,  as  men  who  have  essayed  a  crime, 

And  fly  with  hidden  faces,  scared  and  banned, 

They  turned  abashed  after  a  tedious  time, 
And  sought  a  more  congenial  and  a  darker  clime. 

This  in  the  depths  of  Erebus  they  found, 

Th'  antipodes  of  heaven  and  of  light, 

Where  ancient  Chaos  still  maintains  its  ground, 

And  all  the  hoary  empire  of  old  Night 

Holds  unimpaired  its  patrimonial  right 

Of  darkness,  discord,  and  eternal  fray  ; 

Where  deepest  gloom,  which  drapes  the  prospect  quite, 

Is  ne'er  disturbed  by  any  golden  ray, 
Which  can  through  chink  unguarded  thither  make  its  way. 

One  half  the  universe  it  occupied — 

Room  large  enough  for  Satan  and  his  rout 

To  live  and  spread  abroad  on  every  side, 

Without  the  wish  or  care  to  wander  out ; 

Since  they  confessed  themselves  beyond  all  doubt 

Unable  to  assail  the  heavenly  king. 

Here  therefore  they  abode  in  boisterous  rout, 

Abandoned  unto  strife  and  quarrelling, 
For  discord  sweet  forgetting  every  other  thing. 

But  God,  who  marked  and  knew  their  devilish  power^ 

Raised  a  huge  bastion  at  the  heaven's  verge, 

Lest  in  an  ill  and  evil-omened  hour 

In  momentary  amity  they  urge 

Their  fell  battalions  thither,  and  emerge 

Full  in  the  white  and  crystal  courts  of  light. 

Wherefore  he  bastion  raised  against  such  scourge, 

A  mighty  bastion  of  stupendous  height, 
Bare  adamant,  as  black  as  everlasting  night. 

Lo  !  we  have  told  how  once  two  devils,  lost 

Upon  the  plains  of  darkness  far  away, 

This  ample  bastion  in  their  wanderings  crossed, 

And  through  a  chink  unguarded  heaven  survey  : 

How  the  intelligence  they  did  convey 

Unto  the  grisly  potentate  of  hell, 

Who,  plunged  in  deepest  gloom  for  aeons  grey, 

His  mem'ry  rased  by  spiritual  spell, 
Had  sheer  forgotten  all  the  past  which  in  't  did  dwell. 

Lo  !  we  have  told  the  conflict  and  the  fight, 

The  fight,  the  duel,  and  how  Satan  fell, 

Precipitated  from  the  realms  of  light 

Sheer  to  the  pit  and  inky  flames  of  hell. 

Past  each  celestial  shining  citadel 

Through  hordes  of  fighters,  ever  down  he  fled 

At  dizzy  pace  beyond  all  parallel. 


64      THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  III. 

The  huge  array  of  hosts  embattled 

Made  way  and  opened  wide,  as  through  their  ranks  he  sped. 
Like  some  huge  tree  on  Switzer  clilf  that  grew 
And  towered  a  beacon,  seen  afar  and  nigh, 
But  woodmen's  axes  now  have  hewn  it  through, 
And  from  its  peak  it  falls  with  mighty  sigh, 
Precipitated   downward   from   the   sky 
E'en  to  the  lowest  vale  where  boils  the  stream — 
Past  cliffs,  and  pines,  and  platforms,  it  doth  fly, 
Past  snows  and  icy  torrents  bathed  in  steam, 

Which  follow  one  another  like  a  changing  dream  : — 
So  Satan  fell  past  glittering  lights  and  fire, 
Past  roaring  battles  and  past  clashing  fray, 
Through  clouds  of  smoke  and  sheets  of  darkness  dire, 
Which  oft  the  fiery  fight  concealing  lay  ; 
Through  tracts  of  gloom  more  distant  far  than  they, 
Where  every  sound  of  battling  strife  did  cease, 
Where  horrors  grew  unto  his  soul  alway, 
The  horror  terrible  of  rest  and  peace, 

Which  every  fathom  now  did  mightily  increase. 
Quieter  and  quieter,   stiller  and  more  still 
Now  grew  the  dire  and  blasted  prospects  round, 
Whose  quiet  his  soul  with  agonies  did  fill. 
Past  hills  of  ashes,  horrors  to  astound, 
Exhausted  worlds  where  fluttered  not  a  sound, 
Craters  extinct,   and  dead  volcanoes  old, 
Where  ne'er  a  spark  of  quickening  fire  was  found — 
Down,  down  he  dived  at  dizzy  pace  untold, 

Powerless  his  headlong  course  to  slacken  or  withhold. 
At  length  amid  this  waste  of  silence  wan, 
Half-finished  worlds  and  darkness  terrible, 
He  came  to  tracts  where  noises  dire  began 
To  raise  the  hubbubs  which  he  loved  so  well, 
And  knew  himself  approaching  utter  hell — 
Hell  with  loud  noise  and  constant  discord  fed. 
And  here  at  length  more  leisurely  he  fell ; 
And  ceased  deep  in  the  land  of  darkness  dread, 

Which  half  the  universe  divides  with  heav'n  o'erhead. 
Here  in  the  cool  dank  dark  refreshed  he  lay, 
And  smoothed  the  plumage  of  his  ruffled  wings, 
To  disappointment  and  distress  a  prey, 
And  tortured  by  the  never-ceasing  stings 
Of  foiled  ambition,  which  sore  rancour  brings. 
Long  lay  he  thus,  inactive,  torpid,  dead, 
Not  caring  for  his  power  nor  any  things, 
Listening  the  tramp  of  hosts  discomfited, 

Who  came  to  join  their  king  amid  his  kingdom  dread. 
For  ages  must  he  thus  in  trance  have  lain, 
Uninterested  and  indifferent, 
Dull,  sullen,  fuming,  but  devoid  of  pain, 
And  gathering  strength  for  a  renewed  intent 
And  desperate  enterprise  malevolent. 


THE  THEOGONY,  OR  GENEALOGY  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.  65 

What  time  passed  by  can  be  computed  only 
In  heaven  (for  ages  in  their  cycles  went, 
While  he  in  sullen  fit,  morose  and  lonely, 

Lay  on  the  floor  of  hell  brooding-  on  vengeance  only). 
What  time,  what  endless  time  had  thus  passed  by 
Can  ne'er  be  known— when  news  there  came  to  him 
Of  room  for  enterprise  amid  the  sky. 
For  'twas  reported  God  had  'gun  to  limn 
The  outlines  of  a  world,  well  planned  and  trim, 
Where  he  intended  peace  and  love  to  dwell ; 
Nay,  that  Himself  in  manly  shape  and  limb 
Was  there  resolved  as  man  with  man  to  dwell, 

And  show  his  creatures  dear  how  that  he  loved  them  well. 
Lo  !  we  have  told  how  Satan  in  the  act 
Caught  God  of  making  this  fair  world  of  life, 
And  how  he  it  insidiously  attacked, 
And  sowed  the  seeds  of  poison,   death,   and  strife, 
Blights,  woes  and  griefs,  with  tears  and  sorrows  rife. 
But  to  the  height  of  this  great  argument 
Have  we  not  soared — how  Satan  sought  in  strife, 
While  God  in  form  of  weakling  man  was  pent, 

To  him  destroy  with  sin  and  death  malevolent. 
When  God  in  fulness  of  the  time  appeared 
As  a  young  babe  to  our  sweet  Saviour  be, 
The  Devil  swift  to  Herod's  palace  neared, 
And  in  his  ear  that  foul  iniquity 
Whispered — to  doom  to  death  and  butchery 
All  babes  in  Bethlehem  that  season  born. 
But  yet  in  vain  Satan's  fell  treachery  ! 
And  disappointment  did  his  brow  adorn 

With  one  more  wrinkle,  and  his  breast  with  one  more  thorn. 
Then  threw  he  dire  temptations  in  Christ's  way — 
The  sin  of  pride,  the  lust  of  worldly  power, 
The  soft  delights  of  sense,  allurements  gay, 
Seeking  to  him  entangle  every  hour, 
Knowing  full  well  that  sin  could  overpower 
His  life  divine  as  potently  as  death. 
But  all  in  vain  these  clouds  o'er  Jesus  lower. 
Humble,  pure,  modest,  he  continueth, 

And  all  the  world  doth  list  the  kindly  words  he  saith. 
Then  out  of  flesh,  as  alabaster  white, 
In  soft  alluring  curves  of  peerless  mould, 
The  Devil  framed  a  vision  of  delight — 
A  lovely  maid  with  hair  of  shimmering  gold, 
And  breasts  which  such  fair  glories  did  enfold, 
And  shape  which  wooed  so  well  to  dalliance, 
That  none  e'er  saw  her  beauty  and  controlled 
His  hot  desires  to  peace  and  sufferance, 

But  burned  to  banquet  on  her  charms'  luxuriance. 
This  lovely  maid  he  brought  upon  the  scene, 
Calling  her  beauteous  Mary  Magdalene ; 
And  where  in  Bethany  'neath  date  trees  green 


66  THE   EPIC   OF   GOD   AND   THE   DEVIL.       PART   III. 

Christ  walked  in  peace  unruffled  and  serene, 
She  suddenly  appeared  in  all  the  sheen 
And  glow  of  beauty,  passion,  love  and  fire. 
With  soft  intoxicants,  enticements  keen, 
To  sap  his  modest  youth  she  did  aspire, 

And  kindle  in  his  breast  delicious  sweet  desire. 
But  oh  !-in  vain  her  wonted  arts  she  tries; 
In  vain  her  witching  words,  her  melting  eyes, 
Her  fair  artillery  of  looks  and  sighs, 
Her  flesh  which  like  a  velvet  pasture  lies, 
Her  passions  warm,  revealed  without  disguise. 
Each  new  allurement  withers  ere  she  throws  it. 
Each  new  seduction,  ere  it  reach  him,  dies. 
Baffled  are  all  her  toils,  and  well  she  knows  it; 

Humbled  her  wanton  mind,  and  contritely  she  shows  it. 
Before  his  chaste  and  unimpassioned  beauty, 
His  virtue  unapproachable,  divine, 
She  bows  her  head,  forgets  her  destined  duty, 
And  all  her  soul  but  longeth  to  resign 
To  his  sweet  influence,  henceforth  to  shine 
The  dearest  and  the  truest  of  his  saints, 
Abandoning  that  servitude  malign 
Which  covered  her  with  cankers  and  with  taints, 

And  was  the  fruitful  cause  of  her  remorse  and  plaints. 
Wherefore  a  box  of  costly  spikenard  buying 
Of  perfume  infinite  and  richness  rare, 
She  bathed  the  feet  of  holy  Jesus  lying, 
And  kissed  them  oft,  and  wiped  them  with  the  fair 
And  shining  nimbus  of  her  golden  hair 
In  all  its  wealth  of  ringlet  and  of  tress, 
Bowing  her  head  in  penitence  and  prayer. 
And  thus  imploring  him  her  soul  to  bless 

She  strove  to  wipe  away  her  guilt  and  wickedness. 
Again  were  Satan's  fell  designs  frustrated, 
Again  his  instrument  was  faulty  found. 
The  praise  and  glory  of  the  God  he  hated — 
To  this  alone  did  all  his  schemes  redound  ! 
Yet  not  relaxed  his  subtlety  profound. 
And  next  he  tried,  alas  !  with  deeper  skill, 
Sweet  Jesus  to  entrap  with  trick  renowned. 
He  whispered  him,  that  if  he  had  the  will, 

His  precious  gospel  soon  the  total  world  would  fill. 
The  means  were  simple.     He  had  but  to  wear 
The  crown  of  Judah  and  be  called  a  king, 
And  his  sweet  words  their  precious  lore  would  bear 
O'er  all  the  world;  his  Gospel  would  take  wing; 
And  in  the  ears  of  all  mankind  would  ring 
The  message  of  good  will  and  peace  to  men. 
Nay,  if  were  opposition  threatening, 
A  kingly  edict  could  be  issued  then, 

Which  would  to  Christ  reduce  e'en  foes  most  alien. 
And  Christ's  sweet  soul  fell  victim  to  the  plan. 


THE  THEOGONY,  OR  GENEALOGY  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.  67 

He  hearkened  ;  and  he  listened  ;  and  obeyed. 
And  there  arose  a  treasonable  man, 
Barabbas,  bravo  desperate,   to  aid 
The  cunning-  game  which  traitorous  Satan  played. 
He  o'er  the  will  of  Jesus  triumphing, 
For  his  own  ends,  did  our  sweet  Lord  persuade, 
That  he  would  make  him  of  Judaea  the  king,     ' 
And  him  triumphant  in  Jerusalem  would  bring. 
Riding  then  into  brave  Jerusalem, 

0  Jesus  beautiful,  O  brother  mine, 
Too  little  didst  thou  weet  the  stratagem 
And  Satan's  deep  perfidious  design — 
How  all  the  world  against  thee  did  combine, 
How  bravos  and  conspirers  did  but  use 
Thee  as  their  instrument  for  plot  malign, 
Who  made  thee  king-  and  monarch  of  the  Jews, 

With  riot,  pillage,  spoil,  thy  empire  to  abuse. 

How  thou  wert  taken  and  with  them  condemned  ! 

How  thou  wert  taunted,  mocked,  derided,  jeered  ! 

And  the  bad  author  of  the  dire  attempt, 

Barabbas,  was  before  the  judgment  cleared. 

But  our  dear  Lord,  whom  all  should  have  revered, 

With  other  twain,  partakers  of  the  plot, 

Was  on  the  cruel  cross  in  torture  reared, 

While  crowds  around,  unpitying  his  lot, 
Reviled  and  railed  and  flouted,  though  he  heeded  not. 

He  on  the  cross,  for  our  transgressions  torn, 

Hung  like  a  rose  nailed  to  a  garden  wall. 

He,  sweeter  rose,  possessed  no  piercing  thorn, 

Wherewith  to  wound  those  foes  inimical, 

Who  him  abused  with  force  tyrannical, 

And  whose  fell  hands  had  lifted  him  on  high. 

Few  friends  bewailed  his  fate  funereal. 

But  veils  of  darkness  draped  the  sunlit  sky, 
And  Nature  groaned  to  see  the  God  of  Nature  die. 

Then  Satan  triumphed.     And  in  Hell  that  night 

Tumultuary   Pandemonium 

Arose  and  inexpressible  delight 

To  think  how  God  at  length  was  overcome, 

And  that  he  did  so  easily  succumb, 

Caught  in  the  shape  of  man,  without  resistance. 

Wherefore  all  hell  was  busy  with  the  hum 

Of  feast  and  revel,  which  with  loud  persistence 
Increased,  and  spread  its  uproar  into  endless  distance. 

For  two  nights'  space  the  revel  was  protracted. 

All  hell  was  blessed  ;  but  Satan  he  was  glorious, 

And  loudly  vaunted  of  the  part  he'd  acted, 

And  by  what  craft  o'er  God  he  was  victorious. 

"  Aha  !  "  he  laughed.      "  'Twas  by  no  strife  laborious 

That  I  have  added  Heaven's  throne  to  Hell ; 

But  by  a  trick — perhaps  you'll  say  inglorious  : 

1  waited  until  God  as  man  did  dwell, 


68      THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  III. 

Then  killed  him,  like  a  lobster  caught  without  its  shell." 
Hereat  the  vaults  of  Hell  in  black  clouds  rolling- 
Re-echoed  to  the  laughter  of  their  lord, 
Who  turned  from  boasting  and  his  soul  consoling 
With  dreams  of  future  glory,  to  the  board 
And  all  the  luxuries  it  did  afford. 
He  quaffed,  he  roared,  and  his  base  self  beglutted 
With  the  best  drinks  and  viands  of  hell's  hoard, 
And  bade  all  eat  until  all  hell  was  gutted ; 

For  that  in  Heaven  soon  with  prey  they  should  be  glutted. 
Wherefore  all  ate,  all  drank,  all  banqueted, 
And  staves  and  bawdy  songs  around  were  sung, 
How  God,  their  enemy,  at  last  was  dead, 
And  how  all  day  upon  a  cross  he  hung, 
And  then  at  eve  into  a  tomb  was  flung, 
Where  now  he  lay  for  two  days  dead  and  cold. 
And  thus  they  shouted  as  they  staved  each  bung  : — 
"  Down  with  the  courts  of  crystal  and  of  gold  ! 

Hurrah  for  Night  primeval  and  for  Chaos  old  !  " 
For  two  long  nights  then  having  revelled  thus, 
When  the  first  Easter  morn  came  peeping  grey, 
Up  they  arose  with  shouts  uproarious, 
Meaning  towards  the  tomb  to  make  their  way 
Where  the  dead  God  of  Earth  and  Heaven  lay, 
Humiliated,  crushed,  discomfited. 
Up  they  arose  at  dawn  of  Easter  Day — 
A  motley  troop,  with  Satan  at  their  head. 

Their  dusky  wings  for  leagues   through   the   dun   air  were 

spread. 

Sheer  o'er  the  hoar  illimitable  deep, 
The  realms  of  Chaos  and  of  ancient  Night, 
Which  lie  'twixt  Hell  and  Earth,  in  troop  they  sweep, 
Till  by  the  morn,  as  on  they  speed  their  flight, 
They  had  the  hill  of  Calvary  in  sight, 
Where  still  three  crosses,  empty  now,  were  reared, 
All  gilded  in  the  breaking  morning  light. 
The  devils  laughed,  and  cried,  as  these  appeared, 

"  Here  the  Great  God  of  Heaven  was  slain,  whom  once  we 

feared. ' ' 

"  Yes,"  answered  Satan.      "  And  within  the  tomb 
Beneath  yon  hill  his  corpse  to  you  I'll  show, 
That  ye  may  see  by  what  almighty  doom 
I  have  struck  down  and  pulverised  my  foe. 
His  trip  to  earth  has  brought  him  death  and  woe. 
(Dotard,  to  put  himself  within  my  power  !) 
'T  has  made  me  King  of  Heaven,  did  he  but  know. 
The  thrones  of  heaven  and  earth  are  now  my  dower. 

Of  hell,  earth,  heav'n  am  I  the  monarch  from  this  hour." 
Thus  vaunting  and  thus  flushed,  in  force  they  flew 
Into  the  garden,  where  the  sepulchre 
Hewn  out  of  solid  rock,  fresh,  fragrant,  new, 
Lay  sealed  and  peaceful  and  without  a  stir, 


THE  THEOGONY,  OR  GENEALOGY  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.  69 

Striking  strange  awe  in  those  breasts  sinister. 

Then  Satan  rolling  back  the  monstrous  stone 

Stept  in  to  seize  the  corpse  without  demur. 

But  started  back,  and  cried  in  stuttering  tone, 
"What  ho,  my  masters  !  We  are  foiled.    The  bird  has  flown  !" 

Then  angry  tumult  rose.     The  devils  rave 

With  cries  uproarious  and  jibe  on  jibe, 

Vituperating  Satan  as  a  knave, 

And  fool,  and  clown  ('tis  thus  they  him  describe) 

For  having  led  his  estimable  tribe 

To  such  a  mare's  nest  as  this  empty  tomb. 

Writh  taunts,  jeers,  insults,  rang  their  diatribe. 

"  Thou   must  have   known,"   cried   some.      "  Thou   didst 

presume," 
Cried  others,  "  on  our  ignorance,  this  fraud  to  boom." 

"  Insensate  fool,"  thus  others  chimed  in, 

"  Who  deem'st  thyself  superior  to  God, 

But  yet  art  only  king  of  Hell  and  Sin, 

And  scarce  his  equal — would  we  ne'er  had  trod 

This  crazy  road  at  thy  contemptuous  nod, 

Which  us  has  brought  but  scorn  and  ridicule  !  " 

"  Hence,  Arch-Deceiver  !  travesty  of  God  !  " 

Thus  others  cried;  "unworthy  art  to  rule, 
Since  e'en  to  thy  most  faithful  fiends  art  proved  a  fool." 

Abashed,   ashamed,  a  self-acknowledged  fool, 

The  Devil  with  a  hearty  curse  at  all 

Took  wing,  and  left  them  raging  with  misrule, 

Delivered  up  to  quarrel,  strife  and  brawl 

Betwixt  themselves,  unheeding  what  befall. 

He  far  away  flew  to  repose  his  soul, 

And  heal  his  wounded  pride,  which  had  such  fall, 

To  utter  Chaos,  where  the  billows  roll 
Of  elemental  masses  raging  past  control. 

Here  eldest  Night  and  Chaos,  Chance  and  Death, 

Four  minions  fit,  with  ministry  concur 

To  heal  the  grief  with  which  he  laboureth. 

Not  thence  for  ages  would  he  gladly  stir ; 

Such  fell  despair  in  his  breast  sinister, 

Such  dire  chagrin  and  disappointment  keen, 

Rankle  and  torture  and  to  madness  spur. 

Fain  would  he  in  that  tempest-tossed  terrene, 
Soothed  by  its  roar,  digest  his  rage  at  what  has  been. 

But  he  remembers  what  great  force  he  is, 

What  power — one  half — he  in  the  world  possesseth, 

That  while  he  fuming  there  and  nerveless  lies 

The  everlasting  conflict  on  him  presseth 

Twixt  him  and  God,  which  God's  fair  world  distresseth. 

What  though  the  fight  has  ended  in  defeat? 

One  day  fair  victory  the  vanquished  blesseth. 

Wherefore  he  Chaos  left  with  pinions  fleet, 
And  sallied  forth  again  the  God  of  Heaven  to  meet. 

So  do  they  war,  and  so  will  war  again. 


7O  THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.       PART  III. 

So  they  contend,  with  energy  renewed, 

To  win  dominion  of  the  world's  domain. 

No  end  is  there  to  their  eternal  feud. 

For  ever  and  for  ever  unsubdued, 

Close  interlaced  throughout  the  Universe, 

Close  interlocked  they  writhe  in  wrestle  rude. 

One  blasts  all  living  Nature  with  a  curse, 
And  one  doth  showers  of  blessings  o'er  the  world  disperse. 

From  measureless  eternity  The  Twain 

In  unrelenting  enmity  persist. 

Without  the  one,  could  not  the  one  remain  ; 

Without  the  one,  the  other  not  exist. 

It  was  a  secret  e'en  by  angels  missed, 

What  bond  of  union  knit  The  Two  in  one ; 

Till  Satan  as  he  fell  from  heaven  hissed — 

"  Older  than  God  am  I,  though  crushed,  undone. 
Him  I  begot.      He  is  my  offspring  and  my  son." 

Shrieking  thus  loud,  and  with  an  awful  yell 

Of  imprecation  dire,  to  lowest  hell 

Sheer  from  the  Seventieth  Thousandth  Heaven  he  fell, 

His  eyes  like  craters,  terrible  as  hell, 

His  brow  with  ashes  loaded  like  a  fell, 

And  all  himself  insufferably  old. 

His  outcry,  "  I  begot  him,"  all  heard  well. 

Some  said  'twas  blasphemy.     But  some  more  bold 
Vowed  it  was  likely  news,  and  that  the  truth  he  told. 

E'en  thus  the  angels  spake  themselves  among, 

Now  for  the  first  time  hearing  the  strange  news 

(It  was  when  he  and  God  in  wrestle  clung.) 

As  for  the  devils,  they  could  not  but  choose 

With  such  a  vaunt  their  vanity  t'  amuse. 

And  one  of  them — 'twas  Atarcuph  the  old — 

Said  they  might  all  believe  the  startling  news; 

For  he  remembered  how  in  time  untold 
Satan's  almighty  power  the  total  world  controlled. 

Thus  was  the  genealogy  complete 

By  Satan  told,  of  the  Terrific  Twain, 

By  heaven  believed  with  caution,  as  'twas  meet, 

By  hell  received  with  jubilation  vain, 

And  which  all  hell  still  doughtily  maintain. 

Howe'er  the  rightful  lineage  ensued, 

The  Sovereigns  Twin  imperially  reign 

O'er  all  the  world  with  vigour  unsubdued, 
And  strive  to-day  as  ages  since  in  ceaseless  feud. 

God,  mighty  Ormuzd,  offers  us  his  terms, 

And  Satan,  Ahriman,  doth  offer  his — 

To  list  beneath  the  banner  of  their  arms, 

And  fight  in  serried  ranks  and  companies 

Like  gallant  soldiers  'gainst  their  enemies. 

Which  service  shall  we  take?     This  well  to  know, 

Must  tax  our  spirit,  spur  our  energies. 

Upon  our  answer,  be  it  Yea  or  No, 


THE  THEOGONY,  OR  GENEALOGY  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.  71 

Depends  eternal  weal  or  everlasting  woe. 

The  Devil  thus  invites  us  to  his  side  : 

"  I  offer  soaring  intellectual  pride, 

Contempt  of  God  and  all  the  world  beside. 

I  offer  man  a  nature  deified 

By  high  ambition  richly  gratified ; 

A  heart  whose  passions  nothing  need  restrain, 

A  will  unscrupulous,  to  all  o'erride. 

I  offer  victory  with  heaps  of  slain ; 
Contempt  of  death,  all  things  to  dare  and  dare  again. 

"  I  offer  greed  and  envy  satisfied. 

I  offer  slights  requited,  grudges  paid. 

I  offer  hatred  quenched  in  homicide. 

1  offer  treacheries  successful  played, 

Triumph  o'er  weakness  helpless  and  afraid, 

Cold  callous  disregard  of  human  pain, 

The  reckless  joy  of  riot  and  of  raid. 

I  offer  haughty  scorn  and  deep  disdain, 
And  rich  revenge,  which  tingles  sweet  through  every  vein. 

"  I  offer  wealth  from  suff'ring  millions  wrung 

To  feed  and  satisfy  one  man  alone ; 

Allurements  for  the  senses  and  the  tongue 

At  glittering  banquets  o'er  with  roses  strown, 

Or  feasts  of  gluttony  enjoyed  alone. 

I  offer  vices  exquisite  and  rare 

Refined  to  heights  delicious  and  unknown ; 

And  hand  in  hand  with  such  delightful  fare 
A  nature  cold  and  dead,  where  nought  but  self  hath  share. 

"  Lo  !  what  I  offer,  and  lo  !  what  I  threat 

To  all  alike  who  take  and  who  decline 

My  precious  boons  :  since  neither  I  forget — 

Chastise  my  foes  with  punishment  condign, 

And  persecute  my  friends  for  sport  malign. 

I  threaten  misery,  I  threaten  care, 

Incessant  cause  to  sorrow  and  repine ; 

I  threaten  woe,  anxiety,  despair, 
And  grinding  poverty,  most  hard  of  ills  to  bear. 

"  I  threaten  sickness  and  I  threaten  pain, 

Excruciating  tortures,  dire  disease, 

Agonies  sent  again  and  yet  again, 

Heart-rending  griefs,  and  such  fell  things  as  these — 

I  threaten  doubt,  distraction,  want  of  ease, 

Care  that  can  change  the  chestnut  hair  to  white, 

Hot  scalding  tears,  horrors  the  blood  to  freeze, 

Madness  that  gleams  awhile  with  fitful  light, 
And  burieth  the  soul  in  black  and  cloudy  night. 

"  These  can  I  bring,  for  Ahriman  am  I, 

Lord  of  all  plagues,  all  sorrows  and  all  death. 

These  will  I  bring,  at  once,  capriciously, 

Without  a  warning  given,  in  a  breath, 

On  all  to  whom  my  fancy  travelleth, 

And  most  on  those  who  my  allegiance  flee. 


72        THE  EPIC  OK  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.   PART  III. 

Them  will  I  smite  with  fate  that  harroweth, 
And  make  example,  for  the  world  to  see 
How  its  supremacy  belongs  by  right  to  me." 

0  lord,  most  terrible,  O  sovereign  fell, 
Most  formidable  are  thy  menaces, 

Which  speak  the  awful  parentage  of  Hell ; 
Yet  eke  as  terrible  thy  promises, 
Which  would  seduce  to  such  iniquities, 
That  in  my  weakliness  I  know  not  well — 
Not  which  to  choose  (for  neither  do  me  please) — 
But  which  is  worst,  my  soul  to  thee  to  sell, 
Or  thee  defy,  and  face  thy  wrath  past  parallel. 
Thus  did  I  cry,  distracted,  ill  at  ease, 
In  this  great  universe,  where  I  abide 
So  weak  in  face  of  mighty  powers  like  these. 
Weak,  puny,   feeble,   frightened,   terrified, 
How  was  I  fain  from  Ahriman  to  hide  ! 
Lest  he  should  seize  me  in  his  ruthless  claws, 
And  'gainst  my  will  should  clutch  me  to  his  side — 

1  trembled ;  for  the  thought  my  being  awes, 
How  half  the  universe  is  subject  to  his  laws. 

Then  in  my  sore  distress  I  did  decide 
To  go  to  Ormuzd  and  with  him  abide. 
And  creeping  near  to  him  in  sore  distress  I  cried  : 
"  What  art  thou,  Ormuzd?  what  wilt  thou  afford, 
That  I  should  take  thee  as  my  master  and  my  lord?  " 
Then  with  a  voice  as  sweet  as  harp  celestial, 
Transcending  far  all  melody  terrestrial, 
A  tone  like  many  flutes  divinely  breathing, 
Their  limpid  notes  in  liquid  warble  wreathing, 
When  thus  I  cried, 
Ormuzd  replied  : — 
"  I  am  the  first  pale  streak  of  grey 
In  the  dark  night, 
Which  winning  way 
And  shedding  day 
Makes  all  things  light. 
I  am  the  first  dim  ray  of  hope 

In  deep  despair, 

Which  gives  the  first  faint  strength  to  cope, 
Which  gives  the  energy  to  hope, 
Which  gives  the  faculty  and  scope 

To  vanquish  care. 
I  am  the  healer  of  all  woe. 

I  bring  relief. 
I  smoothe  the  wrinkles  on  the  brow. 

I  banish  grief. 
In  fell  affliction  I  am  sleep ; 
In  dire  fatigue  am  slumber  deep. 
In  wearing  sorrow  I  am  balm, 
In  restless  trouble  soothing  calm. 
I  offer  peace,  I  offer  rest, 


THE  THEOGONV,  OR  GENEALOGY  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.  73 

Of  all  the  boons  to  man  the  best, 

Of  all  estates  the  loveliest, 

Sweet  sleep  and  rest, 
Oblivion  blest, 
Sweet  rest  and  sleep, 
Refreshing-  rest  and  slumber  deep 
Which  in  oblivion  doth  steep, 
All  cares  to  smoothe, 
All  woes  to  soothe. 

Come  unto  me,  ye  weary  and  ye  sore, 

And  I  will  give  you  rest  for  evermore, 

Eternal  blest  oblivion  of  your  woes 

And  everlasting  undisturbed  repose. 

Such  is  the  boon  which  I  to  man  can  give. 

Ye  weary,  whom  I  love,  come  with  me  live." 
Then  other  words  did  I  hear  Ormuzd  say, 
As  on  my  knees  before  His  throne  I  pray  : — 
"  Deep  in  the  nig'ht  of  Chaos  was  I  born. 
The  world  was  then  how  lonely,  how  forlorn  ! 
Yea  !  but  at  length  that  world  of  dark  and  sin, 
Chaos,  showed  weakness,  and  then  I  crept  in. 
I  crept  in  like  a  ray  which  doth  illume 
The  dark  black  sky,  th'  opaque  and  darkling  gloom — 
A  thin  grey  ray  which  shimmered  in  the  night. 
Lo  !  I  have  come,  and  half  the  world  is  light." 
And  other  words  did  I  most  dimly  hear, 
Nor  know,  inditing,  if  I  heard  them  clear  : — 
"  I  am  the  bloom  of  Evil.      I  proceed 
From  evil  as  the  flower  springs  from  the  seed. 
First  came  the  Evil,  and  then  came  the  Good — 
Succession  strange,  and  hardly  understood  ! 
Evil  doth  change,  and  to  new  shapes  it  rangeth. 
But  Good  is  permanent ;  it  never  changeth. 
All  change  is  weakness.     And  the  change  of  Sin 
Alloweth  Good  the  cranny  to  creep  in. 
Evil  doth  perish  like  a  rotting  seed, 
And  from  the  perished  core  doth  Good  proceed. 
Seeds  in  the  ground  of  putrefying  corn 
Unsightly  die,  and  lovely  wheat  is  born. 
Soil  soils  the  bulb  ;  decay  strikes  dead  and  chilly  ; 
And  from  the  black  corruption  steals  the  lily. 
Soul-crushing  care  strikes  lifeless  and  forlorn, 
And  from  the  bleak  despair  lo  !  hope  is  born. 
Thus  a  succession  strange  doth  hold  its  sway. 
Alway  it  hath  been,  and  will  be  alway. 
Satan  showed  weakness  in  almighty  power, 
And  the  good  God  was  born  that  self-same  hour. 
Chaos  grew  weak  ;  its  blossom  was  a  ray. 
Night  doth  decay,  and  lo  !  its  flower  is  day. 
Evil  doth  perish,  and  its  bloom  is  Good." 
These  things  I  heard,  and  half  but  understood. 
Then  still  upon  my  knees  before  his  throne 


74  THE   EPIC  OF   GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.        PART   III. 

I  cried  once  more  in  supplicating  tone  : — 
"  O  Holy  Ormuzd,  beatific  being, 
Must  we  believe  on  thee  without  thee  seeing? 
Is  thy  celestial  beauty  (say  men  right?) 
Invisible  for  ever  to  our  sight?  " 
Then  with  the  warbling  voice  of  flutes  euphonious 
Ormuzd  replied  in  melody  harmonious  : — 
"  Yea,  can  ye  see 
And  look  on  me. 
My  beauty  so  celestial 
Is  not  denied  to  eyes  terrestrial, 
Nor  is  it  pale 
Behind  a  veil, 

But  in  full  loveliness  and  undimmed  sheen 
About,  around,  may  it  be  seen. 
In  the  clear  air, 
I  am  there. 
In  the  blue  sky, 
Lo  !  there  am  I. 
The  dark  deep  sea 
Doth  mirror  me. 
In  silent   spots 
With  foliage  green, 
There  may  I  be  seen. 

And  in  the  fragrant  rose  so  sweet  and  fair, 
Do  ye  not  see  that  I  am  there? 
Lo  !  I  am  in  the  sun  at  noon 

In  all  its  splendour ; 
And  in  the  mellow  moon, 

Serene  and  tender. 
And  in  the  stars  at  night, 
The  heaven  sprinkling, 
And  mutely  twinkling, 
I   shine  with  inexpressible  delight. 
I  revel  in  the  waves  beneath  the  sunlight  glancing. 
I  joy  in  children's  laughter,  their  mirth  and  happy  dancing. 
The  smiling  look,  the  sparkling  eye, 
Blithe  mirth  and  rippling  gaiety — 
Lo  !  all  these  things  are  mine, 
And  in  their  midst  I  shine. 
I  am  the  flash  divine 

Which  lends  them  life  and  being. 
All  that  is  light  am  I, 
All  that  is  bright  am  I, 
All  that  is  great,  all  that  is  high, 
All  that  is  noble  to  the  eye — 
Look  there  for  me, 
I  bid,  and -ye 

Will  not  be  long  of  seeing. 
The  beauty  of  women, 
The  beauty  of  song, 
The  beaut)7  and  gleam 


THE  THEOGONV,  OR  GENEALOGY  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.  75 

That  to  jewels  belong — 
All  that  is  my  beauty,  and  there  am  I  seen 
In  glitter  and  inextinguishable  sheen. 
Thus  can  ye  see  me. 
That  ye  may  know  me, 
Now  will  I  say  more  things  that  show  me, 
Where  ye  may  seek  me, 
Where  ye  may  meet  me, 
Where  ye  may  recognise  and  greet  me. 

When  there  is  hope  with  cheering  ray, 
When  there  is  joy  and  pleasure  gay, 
Then  I  am  present,  then  I  stay. 
\Vhen  tears  and  anguish  and  despair 
And  such  dire  gloomy  things  are  there — 
I  fly  away, 
I  do  not  stay. 

When  lovely  thoughts  do  circulate  around, 
With  light  divine 

I  shine. 

When  evil  ones  do  in  their  room  abound, 
I  fly.     They  are  not  mine. 
Where  there  is  mercy, 
Where  there  is  kindness, 

I  stay. 

Where  there  is  justice, 
Where  there  is  blindness, 

I  fly  away. 

Where  there  is  comfort 
And  sweet  compassion, 

I  stay. 

Where  there  is  vengeance, 
Malice,  passion, 

I  fly  away. 
Where  there  is  suffering,  anguish,  pain, 

I  fly  away. 
But  I  return  again 

To  heal  it. 

Where  there  is- woe,  I  do  not  stay, 
But  back  in  time  I  make  my  way 
To  comfort  those  who  feel  it. 
I  hie  away  where  there  is  grief ; 
But  back  I  come  to  give  relief. 
Where  there  are  tears,  I  fly  them. 

But  I  return  to  dr^y  them. 
I  am  the  healer  of  all  woe. 
I  smoothe  the  furrows  on  each  brow. 
Lo  !  I  am  comfort  in  your  sorrow. 

I  fly  away  ; 

Grief  holds  its  own  to-day  ; 
But  I  come  on  the  morrow. 
In  your  affliction  I  am  balm, 
In  your  distraction  I  am  calm  ; 


76  THE  EPIC  OF  GOD  AND  THE  DEVIL.       PART  III. 

And   when   with   lifelong   weariness  oppressed, 
Lo  !  I  am  sleep,  and  everlasting  rest." 

Then  I  still  on  my  knees  before  his  throne 
Did  for  the  third  time  cry  in  supplicating  tone  : 
"  To  see  Thee  and  to  know  Thee  now  to  me  is  given. 
If  thus  thou  art,  say  what  and  where  is  Heaven?" 
"  Heaven  is  hereafter.     And  for  many  a  year 
'Twill  be  hereafter ;  for  it  is  not  here. 
When  all  the  evil  which  the  world  doth  charge, 
In  volume  limitless  spread  out  at  large, 
Shall  by  insinuating  good  be  overcome  and  purified — 
Good,  which  is  now  one  drop  of  pure  amid  the  inky  tide — 
When  good,  obliterating  little  and  by  little, 
Annihilateth  evil  to  its  utmost  tittle, 
That  not  a  speck  of  evil  shall  befall, 
But  good  and  God  they  shall  be  all  in  all — 
That  will  be  Heaven,  and  that  is  why 
Heaven  is  hereafter  and  not  nigh — 

A  limitless  futurity  ! 
Yet  will  it  come — and  when   't  has  come, 

All  will  be  one  Elysium. 
So  much,  O  mortal  man,  to  you  is  given 
To  know  and  to  be  told  of  Heaven. 
Wait  not  for  Heaven,  which  ye  cannot  see. 
Be  mine — now  ! — now  !   and  ye  will  find  your   Heaven 

with  me." 

Then  came  the  sound  of  flutes  divinely  breathing, 
My  soul  and  sense  in  rapture  sweet  enwreathing, 
So  that  I  wanted  never 
From  such  ecstasy  to  sever. 
Then  I  filled  with  yearning 
To  Ormuzd  turning 
Went  to  his  side, 
There  to  abide 
From  this  time  forth  for  ever. 

THE  END. 


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